Worlds in Collusion
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: Marrissa Story #10, Lt. Picard Era. After an asteroid crashes into the capital of the planet of Essex, the Enterprise is ordered in to assist in the relief effort. Replaces A Royal Mess
1. Chapter 1

Worlds in Collusion

ASC Story Header: (2006)

Title: Worlds in Collusion

Author: Stephen Ratliff

Series: OCC, Marrissa Stories #8 (replaces A Royal Mess)

Rating: [PG]

Part: NEW 14/14

Summary: After an asteroid crashes into the capital of the planet of Essex, the Enterprise is ordered in to assist in the relief effort.

* * *

**Forward**

Has it really been more than ten years? This story originally started as "A Royal Mess," part of the three works that I wrote over the summer of '95, and posted during the next school year. This story, however, I think you'll agree, has only the barest remains of that story, which canon placed in my revision queue a couple years later. Hence, the NEW tag you see on this. There isn't a single line left over, and most of the guest characters have been transformed or replaced.

It's been almost fourteen years now since I started writing my Marrissa Stories, and revision of the early ones to improve them and improve the over all story line has been something I've been doing since I discovered their MiSTing some years later. Let no one say that I don't like MiSTing of my stories, in fact I get quite a bit of laughter out of them, but I have to acknowledge my debt to them as well. I also have to let those MiSTers know that I probably wouldn't still be writing if it weren't for them. Feedback is important, feedback that is often insightful and crouched in cushioning humor is priceless.

By the time I got to this story, Marrissa's career in Star Fleet was already well formed, and I have to admit that giving her that little H.R.H. prefix was a bit of Mary Sueism. There were problems, problems which over the years I have tried to fix as best as possible, given the large number of stories written before I discovered them. One of those has always been that Marrissa gets things to easily. This time, it's not quite as easy, nor is the method of her acquiring her role quite so cheesy. (I'm sure someone is going to get me for that one.)

It's time for our young Lieutenant to discover that she's more than just a Star Fleet Officer, that there are other things outside of the fleet. It's time for the world from which her father sprang from to meet up with the world she lives in. So, I give you, Worlds in Collusion.

Stephen Ratliff

January 30, 2006

Roanoke, VA.

* * *

**Prologue**

Prime Minister William Lancaster II found Princess Victoria on the balcony. His nineteen-year-old Girlfriend was still dressed in the almost translucent pearl colored short under dress that was part of Essex Dinner dress for women. This year's under dresses seemed to be a bit shorter than last year, revealing a couple inches of Victoria's panties. Her over dress, an opulent green suede and silk combo, was still draped back on the chair as was the custom. He expected that she'd gotten bored when Alistair Haughtington-Redglave , the Finance Minister, had gotten into the virtues of a graduated income tax verses a flat one. To be perfectly honest, he'd been bored by it as well.

The sun had long set on the City of Bath, and the lights of the city from it's famous baths to it's harbor cast a glow that was just enough to see by there was a reflecting pool below the balcony that caused a gentle flowing light to wash across the pale skin of his girlfriend. She held a glass of wine that was nearly empty. A gust of wind off the ocean caught her long blond hair, and reshaped it into a haphazard but alluring mess. Her under dress briefly slid upwards, but Lancaster pulled it down as he slid his arm around her.

"We bored you again," Lancaster said, refilling Victoria's glass with the wine bottle he'd brought, before placing it down on the wide marble railing in front of them. It was statement of fact, to which he expected no response. "I'm sorry, but sometimes the Cabinet can't separate business from pleasure."

"I hope that isn't a problem you have," Victoria said, taking a sip of the wine before placing it down on the railing. He kissed her lightly as she put her glass down. "I can see it's not."

Victoria shivered against him as another gust of wind came off the ocean. "You really should have put your over dress on," Lancaster said, as he pulled her closer.

"It would have been impolite for me to interrupt you," Victoria said. By tradition, a lady did not put back on her own overdress after dining, instead requiring the companion that had seated her to place it back on her shoulders.

William enjoyed holding his girlfriend against him as they stood under the stars. As they peered into the distance, a bright trail of light started above the horizon. He'd never seen such a fiery trail before.

"A meteor, a big one, that's not supposed to happen," Victoria said suddenly. Her Grandfather, the King was a noted Stellar Scientist and Astronomer. The fiery trail ended as it passed below the horizon. Moments later there was a flash of impact, followed by a low rumble from the distance. "It hit."

William pulled his personal assistant pad from beneath his suit and immediately called his office in Essex's Capital of Londondairy. There was no answer, so he rang up the Palace. No Answer. No Carrier. Recipient System Off-line. He couldn't get through to any place near Londondairy. He called up the weather satellite imagery. "Victoria, we have a problem."

She took one look at the image of the fresh asteroid impact on her home city and buried her head in William's chest as she began to sob. Her body shook, as her sobs deepened. There was no way her family could have survived that. "No," she sobbed.

"I'm sorry Victoria," William said, as he stroked the back of her head, running his hands through her hair. He tried to provide comfort in his embrace, holding her thinly clad shuddering body close to him, but his own tears were just beginning. Not only was George IV his King, but he'd grown-up knowing 'Grandfather Essex' personally. The King had always seemed unbreakable and everlasting. He'd never known another King. He'd been so proud when he'd been chosen to form a government by the King. Never had it crossed his mind that it would be his duty as Prime Minister to announce succession. The traditional words came out hoarsely, tentatively, and filled with palatable sorrow. "The King is dead, long live the Queen."

**Chapter One**

Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood in front of his chair, surveying his bridge. This new Starship Enterprise was beginning to live up to expectations, thirty-three days into her shakedown. The Sovereign Class had a different rhythm to it than the Galaxy Class did. His first Enterprise had been the Federation's galactic showcase, with every last luxury available. He was finding that the new Enterprise, while it wouldn't be short on luxuries, was a lot leaner, and practically oozed power. At the moment, she was cruising easily, testing and re-calibrating after a series of high power maneuvers.

"Captain, incoming priority transmission from Star Fleet Operations, Admiral Namora," the Master Chief at Tactical announced. His daughter wouldn't take up that station for another five minutes, given the stagger she ran with posts in her department.

"On screen," her father said, Admiral Namora appeared, behind his usual desk. The Asian man had an unusually somber look. "Admiral Namora. What brings you to call upon the Enterprise?"

"Captain Picard, I have very bad news," Admiral Namora said. "The member world of Essex has just been hit by an asteroid, apparently directly on its capital. Prime Minister Lancaster has requested all possible assistance. You're the closest ship able to render assistance, so I'm ordering your immediate departure for that planet at maximum speed."

"CONN, set a course for Essex, maximum warp, engage," Captain Picard ordered. The order was obeyed very quickly, he noticed. All the pilots on the Enterprise were rather young, chosen because he'd expected his daughter to lead that department, but they all did their duty with quiet confidence, he noted.

"I'm sending all the details as I get them," Admiral Namora said. "You'll be the senior officer on the scene, Picard. I'm sending in a couple hospital ships, but they're in Alpha Quadrant, so it may be some time before they get there. You may have to rely on civilian assistance, what little there is of it. I'll try to get as much of it your way as well."

"Understood. We'll do our best, Admiral " Captain Picard said. His mouth formed a thin line as he considered the task ahead of him. Every department on the ship was going to be heavily tasked during the next few days.

* * *

"Good. Star Fleet out." The image of Admiral Namora disappeared replaced first by the Star Fleet Logo, and then by the on rushing stars.

Nozomi was the thirteen-year-old great granddaughter of Clarrissa, the Duchess of Norsex, the King's sister. This put her forty-sixth in line to the throne, and since she lived with her Great-Grandmother, had enabled her to meet King George IV several times. She had a holo of him from the time he'd actually stopped in at the Launchpad, the rambling house some thirty kilometers outside of Leicester. He'd come for Nozomi's thirteenth birthday as a surprise. Her grandmother hadn't even been home when he'd arrived.

The holo had been his idea. Nozomi liked to paint, and wanted to be a portrait artist someday. As the King had said, if you want to be a famous painter someday, there wasn't a much better spot to start than a commissioned portrait of the King. So for the last five months she'd been working on her first real portrait, trying to capture the image of Essex's second longest reigning monarch.

He'd posed for the holo not in his royal regalia, but in a formal suit. It was deep blue, with a thin black lapel. His white shirt was well pressed with its horizontal creases. His salt and pepper beard was well trimmed, and Nozomi could almost imagine the twinkle in his eyes above his wide smile.

Nozomi had tried her best to convey that in her painting. She figured it would be done in just a couple more weeks, plenty of time to present it on the King's birthday at the end of next month. She paused to look closely at her work on the star background. She'd placed the King leaning against the edge of a high window of the Royal Palace. There was a twinkle in his eyes as his left hand was on the shaft of a refracting telescope. There was just a bit more to complete on the billowing crimson and gold drape behind his left shoulder, but she was out of her homemade crimson paint.

As she moved in to put in a couple more stars, the musical program that she had playing in the background was interrupted. There was a loud beep for attention, and then a deep voice said. "This is a Special Report from Sussex News Service." There was a pause as the network chimes rang, then the voice continued. Nozomi pulled away from the painting.

"This is a special report from Sussex News Service. We have just received word that at seven fifteen P.M. Londondairy Mean Time, the Capital of Essex was destroyed as the result of an asteroid impact. At this time officials are unable to reach the center of the impact zone. Satellite imagery indicates that the impact was centered roughly between the House of Parliament and the Royal Palace. Prime Minister and his Cabinet were fortunately on a weekend retreat in Bath. Princess Victoria was with him. Mister Lancaster has implemented continuity of government plans at this time, and released the following statement shortly before departing for Saint Leire Castle."

The voice paused, and there was the sound of paper being fumbled and a couple barely heard requests for attention before the strong baritone voice of Essex's Prime Minister rang out, slightly louder than expected.

"First of all, we ask that everyone remain calm. We are mobilizing emergency services, and Starfleet is dispatching vessels to assist us in rescue and recovery operations. However, given the nature of the emergency, we are likely to need additional help. Minister Dovik will serve to organize additional volunteer services. In additional it has become clear that at the center of the impact survival was impossible. As we have been able to confirm the presence of the King and almost all of the King's family at that location, I regret to inform you that as of ten minutes ago the Cabinet has reluctantly accepted that the King is dead. Princess Victoria Alicia Misako, has ascended the throne as Queen Victoria the First. Given that at this time we have only been able to confirm the survival of twenty members of Parliament, the Queen, on my advice, has declared a planet wide state of emergency. Once again we ask that everyone remain calm. We are doing our best to handle the results of this tragedy."

There was more paper fumbling for a moment, then the deep voice came back on.

"That was Prime Minister William Lancaster II, just moments ago in Bath on the Prometheus Isthmus. Please stay tune to this station for further news and information."

The lively music that had been playing before didn't return. Instead the haunting strings of Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings began to fill the room. Nozomi had frozen when the announcement had come, and as the mournful tune spilled out, she dropped her pallet and brush. Her eyes filled with tears as the violins drew their plaintive notes out from the depths of shared sorrow.

She stared at the unfinished portrait. King George's amused face stared back out at her. He was complete. The world he was in wasn't. It could never be again, not without Grandfather Essex. Nozomi blinked away the tears, looking at the unfinished drape, sketched lightly as it blew away from the open window. He was dead, and she couldn't complete this now. It wasn't right. She reached down the floor and picked up her brush and palette. It had fallen face up, to her relief. She cleaned her brush out and selected a deep blue paint. Loading her brush she signed her single name and dated it. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she stepped back to take one more look at her first commissioned work. Nozomi was still standing there, tears streaking down her face when Duchess Clarrissa came home from work.

* * *

Marrissa Amber Picard stepped on the Bridge three minutes before her shift. Her two gold pips caught the light as she stepped up to tactical. She hadn't expected that her transfer to Security. The job of Chief of Security was not a job that she felt ready for, nor was it a job that she had been assigned to it by her Captain. An old Academy rival of her father's, Vice-Admiral Gretchen Decker, had made the unsolicited confirmation of her post.

Decker's reasoning was that Marrissa was the only Lieutenant, senior grade on the Enterprise during this, her proving period, who had the bare minium of Security qualifications for the job. That was only due to thethe holodeck disaster and the resulting resignations. She only had the bare minium herself only because she'd taken the Academy Officer Refresher and Extension courses without consulting her father, who had been off on a mission at the time. The disapproving tone that Captain Jean-Luc Picard had used when he found out ... Marrissa still didn't like to think back to that day. She had been very grateful for Commander Riker's support then.

Still the anger that Captain Picard had carefully controlled behind his stern visage that day was no where in the league with what he'd shown the day that Admiral Decker's 'confirmation' came in. The worst part of it wasn't his comments about her not being ready for this yet. She had to admit that she wasn't, but still it wasn't very pleasant to hear just how she wasn't ready with that restrained tone that she'd seen her father flay officers before. No, the worse part was the sword match she had with him after he was done. Normally it took more than four minutes for him to score five points on her.

That had only been the beginning of what Marrissa was quickly beginning to label as the toughest command she had ever had, and most likely ever would. Admiral Decker had refused to assign any additional commissioned officers, so she was still the lone commissioned officer in her department. She had three good Master Chief Petty Officers, which seemed to at least be trying to make sure the department ran well, as her chief deputies. They seemed to be the only ones giving her at least the public appearance that the almost fourteen-year-old knew what she was doing. She had to admit that she relied on the Master Chiefs, especially Nelson, to guide her, but that was only sensible. As Dad had told her, only a stupid officer didn't listen to a senior enlisted officer, especially one like Nelson with forty-two years experience. Marrissa like to think that she was not stupid.

She'd arrived just as Admiral Namora had delivered the news about Essex, and waited for the communication to end before taking Tactical from Chief Nelson. "Anything I need to know Chief Nelson? Besides our new assignment, of course."

"Not about Delta Shift events," the Chief replied. "It's been a quiet night. We still need to talk about Crewman Simmons and persistent challenges of everyone's swordsmanship." Her swordsmanship was one of the few things that most of Security actually respected, or at least after they lost to her. A lot of them had recognized that. Simons was perhaps her biggest challenge, but she still won against him with the sabers.

"Can you make lunch at 1230?" Marrissa asked. Simmons was getting rather annoying. Simmons didn't like losing and he had been persisting in challenging her lately. He'd also been thrashing all comers otherwise, and even a few crewmen who didn't want to go against him. "Captain's quarters. I should have a good start on deployment numbers and pairings by then, which we'll need to discuss."

"Aye, aye, sir," Chief Nelson said, smartly saluting and marching off the bridge with an exaggerated swagger. Marrissa almost groaned at the saluting and swagger. Fortunately she suppressed it this time. Commander Riker had been most disapproving when she hadn't.

Marrissa quickly took in the tactical readings. There was nothing of note. The ship's current patrol of the Romeo Sector of the Federation side of Romulan Neutral Zone had been very quiet. There had been some activity on the other side of the zone on long range sensors, but it was just the same Romulan vessel that had been the Enterprise's counterpart throughout the assignment.

This new task, Marrissa could tell, was going to be a mission that strained the ship's personnel to their maximum ability and beyond. It may have been her first disaster relief mission, but during her few Academy courses between Enterprises she'd been told enough about them to expect that most of the Enterprise's crew wasn't going to get much sleep over the next few days. It certainly was going to be an all-hands-on-deck mission. It was not a mission she was confident that her department could handle.

Captain Picard sat in the center seat of the Enterprise's Bridge. His third starship command was still in shake down, and this was the first real test of his new crew. Most of his senior staff was carried over from the Enterprise-D. He wished Worf was still his Chief of Security. The Klingon had been replaced by his own adopted daughter. He spared a glace over to tactical, where Marrissa was half way through the deployment of away teams. That pony tail of hers made her look younger than her thirteen years.

A lot of the crew seemed so young to him. Most of his crew hadn't been in school yet when he'd lost his first command, seventeen years ago. Putting Marrissa in charge of Security, the second youngest officer on the ship, had just made that more evident. He hadn't really wanted to place Marrissa in that post. In his opinion her former post of Chief CONN Officer was ideal for her. He hadn't counted on a petty Admiral to stoop so low as to confirm a post against his will.

"Captain, the Papal Vessel Trinity has entered orbit and the Pope is hailing us," one of those young officers said from Ops. The polished silver colored Miranda Class starship was decelerating into position beside the Enterprise in orbit. The golden crosses decorating her warp nacelles glinted in the reflected light of Iota Leonis A. He could just pick out her registry, P.V. Trinity, GOD-1. Only a vigorous devoutly religions man like the Pope could ask for those three initials for his ships and get them without pause. He could just imagine what the Federation Registry Board's officials had looked like when the Pope asked, and Jean-Luc had no doubt that he'd asked personally.

"On screen," Captain Picard ordered. It had been quite some time since he'd seen the Bishop of Rome. He smiled as Pope Gregory XX appeared on the main screen. This man was known as one of the holiest men in the Federation, among those who believed in deities, and had earned the position that the College of Cardinals had elected him to three years before.

"Lord be with you, Jean-Luc Picard," the Pope greeted. He was seated in the center seat of the Bridge. He wore only a simple gold Latin Cross from a gray chain around his neck over the white papal cassock. It probably was the same one he'd worn every since Jean-Luc had met him. It really wasn't that far off from when Jean-Luc had met the Jesuit Priest during his Academy days, save that the Jesuit's cassock had been black then.

"And with your spirt, your holiness," Jean-Luc Picard. He'd been Father Gallegher during those days, Star Fleet Academy Catholic Chaplin and pastor of Saint Ignatius in San Francisco. He'd actually first met him outside the Academy Tactical Simulators.

"Admiral Namora contacted me asking if I knew of anyone who could be of assistance to Essex in this emergency," the Pope said, his hands resting easily on the command chair's arm rests. "I set course for Essex immediately. I understand that the hundred medically trained members of the Sisters of Mercy that I have aboard would be of assistance to your medical staff on the Enterprise. We lack the space to put them fully to use on the Trinity."

Jean-Luc quickly brought up the notes that had been forwarded to him from his wife. "Yes, Beverly would like about sixty of them to increase staffing of the emergency wards that we've been setting up," he said. "My Chief of Security has asked that you forgo transporter to transporter beaming, and beam to coordinates in our Main Shuttlebay, so the transporter chiefs can handle incoming wounded."

The Pope brought his hands together, folding them on his lap. "I believe that we can handle that, Jean-Luc," the Holy Father said. Behind him a cardinal walked to the Trinity's turbolift and exited the Bridge. "How bad is it?"

"Very bad," Jean-Luc admitted. "We're looking at upwards of ten million dead, and that's the conservative estimate. The city of Londondairy is simply gone. Wounded are beginning to come in. We've got a forest fire that is spreading down the Prometheus Range, and there have already been a couple earthquakes associated with the impact."

The Pope bowed his head, and his lips moved in silent prayer for a moment. Then he did the sign of the cross and looked up. "Cardinal Castaneda has already sent the Sisters on their way over. If there is anything else that the Church can do to assist you, ask and we shall do our best. The prayers, are of course, already a given."

"Of course, your holiness," Jean-Luc said, with a smile. "I would expect no less."

"I shall leave you to your work then, Jean-Luc," the Pope said. "May the almighty Lord bless you, Father, Son, and Holy Spirt." The Pope did the sign of the Cross before him, with the channel closing just as he completed it.

"Amen." The word escaped from Jean-Luc as well as Marrissa, almost without thought. The Captain smiled as the view screen returned to an image of the orbiting planet and the silver Papal Vessel.

* * *

Ely Dessalines strode through the park toward his ex-wife's bed-and-breakfast. He still effected the formal wear of his time as Prime Minister, and his strong strides continued to inform all that this was a man who knew where he was going. Of course here on the edge of the mountain town no one was there to notice.

Three months after his defeat no one seemed to notice or care about him. His three years of Progressive Party Progress had been wiped out in the first month of the Consistency-Constitutionalist Coalition. His time as the Progressive Prime Minister had been marked by steady progress. Then the election had happened. He knew what wasn't part of his defeat, and his party's loss of plurality. It hadn't been the tax cut, nor the Family Education Act. There had been no real government scandal. In fact his government had been fairly popular.

A former Prime Minister should have some respect. He did not and until recently he had not known why. A career of over thirty years in Parliament looked like it was coming to an end, and it was all because of his ex-wife and her family. Well, with the help of his new allies she was going to pay, as her family had already started to.

The two helmeted soldiers that his allies had sent were already waiting by the door of the small bed-and-breakfast when he rounded the corner. Their helmets were polo protective gear, and they'd dressed to fit in with that, even though the polo field was on this side of town. Ely took off his hat, revealing his short curly black hair and dark complexion. He collapsed the hat before nodding at the soldiers. They put their shoulders to the door, and it collapsed inward to their charge. He counted to forty before following them into the Tudor style building, hearing some firing and struggling within.

The entry hall was dimly lit, but not so bad that he couldn't tell its furnishings. He took in a deep breath, smelling the freshly polished wood work. His ex-wife stood behind the dark wood counter, the pigeon holes behind her filled with the keys and a few paper letters. Her long black hair was pushed back so the soldier on the left could put the cold muzzle of his disruptor against her cheek, as she was held back against the pigeon holes. Over by the stairs there were three maids, collapsed on the floor, obviously dead.

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary," Ely began, firmly pointing his walking stick into the floor, as he came to a stop in front of the desk. "How does your garden grow?"

"Ely," she spat, trying to get away from the soldiers holding her. "I have a court order against you."

"The court order ... did you really think I'd be bound by a piece of paper?," Ely said, his hands folded over the end of his walking stick, from which his hat hung. Paper meant little when the other side didn't feel bound by it. Her family hadn't. "When you're dealing with mass execution, it has little value."

"You're behind it?" Mary spat, nearly hitting Ely with her spit. "And you have the gull to come here and boast of it. What makes you so sure that I won't reveal your plans, Ely?"

Ely placed his hat on the counter. "Little maid, you frankly have been a disappointment from day one. You obviously never used the exulted Essex Royal intelligence or drive to succeed. You were supposed to be the crown jewel at my side. Instead you coddled our only son, and went into of all things, running a bed-and-breakfast ... pathetic. You barely make ends meet. So much for being a Princess."

He twisted his walking stick, causing a sharp spike to extend from the bottom. "You are simply wasted space." He raised the walking stick and plunged it between her breasts. The finely crafted spike sunk right into her chest, and Mary gasped involuntarily as blood started to spurt out as he jerked it back out of her. The soldiers let her go and she fell forward, her head impacting the counter, knocking over and ringing the bell on the counter.

As she slid down behind the counter, her life draining quickly with her blood, Ely adjusted his black gloves. He reached over with them and straightened up the bell. "With silver bells and cockleshells and pretty maids lined up all in a row." He popped open his hat, and turned towards the door. "Come along, gentlemen. We must pick up my little Martin from school and tell him the dreadful news. Oh, and take care of this." He tossed his walking stick up in the air, and one of his soldiers vaporized it with his disrupters. Ely started whistling 'Londonderry Air' as he left his ex-wife and her bed-and-breakfast behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Master Chief Petty Officer Harry Nelson entered Transporter Room Four. He had been in Star Fleet Security for over forty years. He was the senior petty officer on board, in fact. Since Security had only one commissioned officer on the Enterprise at the moment, he was also second in command of the department. This was extremely unusual for the flagship, but in the aftermath of the holodeck training exercise that had killed off its eight assigned commissioned officers, there had been no real choice. That point he had to give to that damned Admiral Decker.. Despite her youth, Lieutenant Picard had been the only officer available on board with the requisite classes to take the job.

Nelson was quite aware that Lieutenant Picard's transfer from heading the 'Department of the Helm' to Chief of Security had been done from on high. He hadn't expected the captain of the flagship to have enemies in the fleet. In particular one Admiral who had been up for the Enterprise-D's Captaincy with Picard was now at the head of Star Fleet Personnel for this command area. Nelson didn't think that the Lieutenant knew exactly how much of a problem that Admiral's unsolicited confirmation of the Lieutenant as the Enterprise's Chief of Security hurt the ship.

Nelson tried to think of Marrissa Picard as the Lieutenant. It helped him see her as older than her thirteen years, at least until her pony tail whipped into view again. The Lieutenant had been very happy when that confirmation came in, solidifying her position on the Enterprise, and Nelson has to privately admit that he would have been the same in her place, but that hadn't stopped him from worrying about the results.

The enlisted personnel in the Enterprise's Security Department were practically all looking for ways to leave. The three Master Chief Petty Officers would probably be doing so as well, if Captain Picard hadn't personally intervened. The Captain had been quite worried about his daughter and this new job. Nelson didn't know what he'd said with the other two Master Chiefs in Security, but the Captain had given clear guidance to what he expected, what he would give, and the Lieutenant's own restrictions.

Nelson and the two other Master Chiefs had been guiding the Lieutenant on since then. He had to admit that the Lieutenant was getting better at her job, the deployment parameters she'd set for all available personnel were solid. Still, they all had reservations. She was just too young.

With a high-pitched whine, he disappeared from the transporter room, leaving the young Chief of Security behind. He materialized on the edges of what once was the city of Londondairy. Now it was a mess of thrown splinters of civilization. Over to his right he could see what looked to be part of a residence tower. Doctor Picard had already gotten out her tricorder, and Commander LaForge was actively looking around the area.

The air was filled with dust and smoke. There was an acid taste to the air, as well. The sky was light-brown with all the thrown up dust and dirt from the impact. They had been put down on a relatively flat piece of what looked to be transparent aluminum. It was covered with a thin coating of reddish-brown dust.

"Sixty-two meters, at two o'clock," the doctor said, hopping a bit as they began to walk in that direction. "Geordi, can we get to her?"

"I see her ... I think so," Geordi said, his hand instinctively next to his head, where his VISOR had been until recently. "Chief Nelson, we need to move that beam in order to gain access."

Together they began to move the debris that obscured their access to one of the many injured people on the edges of the impact zone. They shoved steel and transparent aluminum away until finally they revealed the battered body of a young girl, a couple years younger than Nelson's Commanding Officer, her head smeared with blood on one side and her feet pinned beneath another beam. Doctor Picard swiftly moved to the girl's side. "She's got a concussion, and her legs are nearly crushed."

"We can't transport her out without clearing that beam first," Geordi said, examining the area carefully.

"If I cut it around her, will it cause problems?" Nelson asked, pointing out a couple points around the metal around the girl. Part of it seemed to be the remains of a wrought iron bed.

Geordi examined it for a few seconds. "It should be okay, if you cut it here, and here." He pointed to two places very close to the girl. "Anything further apart and we risk the whole building coming down on us."

Chief Nelson pulled out the phaser cutter design that the Lieutenant had ordered all of Security to have on these mission, and set to work. Geordi La Forge pulled out his own and started to work on the other side, while Doctor Picard began to work on the young moaning girl.

"Who are you?" The sudden hoarse voice of the young girl was unexpected. Her eyes had opened up, and the Chief noticed in the light of his cutting that she share the same unusual eye color as his commanding officer. The little girl seemed to be staring directly at him.

Doctor Picard responded, as she applied a pressure bandage to the girl's left arm, were something had scraped a medium size cut. "I'm Doctor Picard from the Enterprise. We're going to get you out of here real soon. What's your name?"

"Hilda Santina Elyssa," the girl said, trying to look around. "Where's Greta?"

"I don't know, Hilda, but we'll look for her as soon as we free you," Doctor Picard promised. "Now stay still so we can free you."

"I can't feel my legs," Hilda suddenly said, as Nelson and Commander La Forge began to lift the beam that was pinning her.

"Don't worry about it, Hilda," Doctor Picard said. "We're going to beam you up to the Enterprise and take care of you. I'm going to put you to sleep for a bit so the other Doctors on the Enterprise can help you, okay?" Hilda nodded, and the doctor injected her quickly. "Doctor Picard to Enterprise, one injured to beam directly to sickbay." Hilda disappeared in the transporter beam.

"Doctor, we've got another one," Geordi said as they carefully put the cut beam down where Hilda had been. "She's still alive, but barely."

Chief Nelson looked back at where the Chief Engineer was pointing. There was the head of a red headed girl just barely peeking out from the curve of a rolled mattress. Her right arm stuck out above her at an unnatural angle.

The Doctor quickly turned over to the young girl. Nelson figured that she had to be Hilda's Greta. The Doctor looked down at her tricorder for only a second. "Geordi, we have to get this girl up to the Enterprise's main trauma in the next two minutes or she's not going to make it. And we don't dare take her out of this mattress until she's there. It's the only thing that's keeping the bleeding down."

"We can't remove the mattress without the whole place coming down either," Geordi said, examining the beam pinning the mattress in place. Nelson looked as well. There wasn't much around to that could prop things up, either.

"Transporter enhancers?" Nelson suggested. "We'd have to beam out along with Greta." There was a sudden shift in the twisted building beneath them.

"No time for that," Geordi said. "La Forge to Enterprise, four to beam up, Doctor and Patient directly to main trauma, Doctor's instructions followed on patient. Now."

"Energizing." The dusty twisted wreckage disappeared from Chief Nelson's vision, dissolving into the transporter room of the Enterprise again.

* * *

Queen Victoria I of Essex hadn't really had much time to think about what she was in for as Queen. The Constitution of Essex, as amended after Mount Shortbottom-Chamberland blew up with the planet's first Prime Minister on it, granted her broad powers in a state of emergency, especially one that had virtually destroyed Essex's Parliament. There were only twenty MPs left, including her beloved William, the Prime Minister. Virtually all of the ministry staff was gone as well.

It was quite fortunate that the only other Queen Essex had had, Asahime I, had invited the Basque who had survived the Nuclear Bombs of 2249 to live on Essex's largest island, back before she became Queen. Without them and their extensive local government Essex would have been run out of King George IV's retreat on Mount Ararat. While it was a nice enough place, Victoria really couldn't see it as a place of governance.

Instead she and what remained of Essex's government was working from Saint Leire Castle. The large stone structure covering over eight square kilometers not only had room for all three of the Basque Legislative Houses, but plenty of room to use to coordinate the massive amount of emergency activities going on, and still have room for much more.

At the moment, Victoria was handling the dispatching of teams of fire-fighters to the Prometheus Range. The impact had started a blaze that was reaching half way across the heavily forested Isthmus. It was not something that was really her assigned task, but like many tasks at the moment, anyone who could pitch in with authority had to handle it. So far she'd been dealing with the distribution of rescue teams in the survivable part of the impact zone, sent information up to the orbiting Starships, assisted the Enterprise in setting up a ground coordination center, briefed the Press on the ongoing efforts, and even made sandwiches for the overworked MPs.

At some point she'd have to get some rest, but at the moment she had been up for twenty-nine hours, seventeen since the impact. Victoria yawned. That apparently was enough to catch William's attention.

"You still haven't got to sleep?" the Prime Minister said, approaching his girlfriend, a large mug of coffee in his hand.

"Neither have you, and you let me sleep in yesterday morning, Bill," Victoria said, trying to stop herself from yawning again as she finished her dispatches.

"Well, I at least have been well fortified with plenty of strong black coffee," William said, watching Victoria yawn. "You, however, haven't even stopped for a cup of tea. And I'm pretty sure that you're still wearing the same dinner dresses."

"Well, it's not like I really packed much when we went to Bath," Victoria said, adjusting the green overdress she had been wearing since well before the impact. "That, I believe was your fault."

"Well, it's not going to be my fault if you don't get enough rest," William said. "The Enterprise has agreed to take over dispatch services for eight hours once I signal them. So, you're going to bed now."

"In that case, I'm going to advise you to do the same, and warn you that I'm going to see to it personally," Victoria said, letting another yawn overtake her.

"See to it personally?" the Prime Minister grinned. "Would your majesty be inviting me to her chambers?" Victoria smiled. "So shocking. What will the press think?"

"The Press can think whatever it wants, and they're probably all to busy at the moment anyway," Victoria said. "In any case, I'm not telling. Let's go, I'm suddenly eager to get some rest."

"I don't think you're eager for rest, Victoria," William replied, with a big grin. He pressed a button on a nearby console. "Saint Leire Castle Emergency Control Center to Enterprise."

"Enterprise, Commander Troi. What can I do for you Minister Lancaster?" The voice was a soft alien lilt one, not the expected proper one of the Captain.

"I'm ready to start transferring primary authority to you for the night," William said. "Are you ready?"

"Lieutenant Picard?" Troi asked.

The responding voice seemed very young, yet had some force behind it. "We've got the full team on duty now, sir, and have been mirroring dispatch functions for the last hour. I think we've got the local patterns down."

"Minister Lancaster, our Security Chief says we're ready," Troi responded. "We should be able to handle everything until your staff gets some well needed rest."

"Very good," William said. "Beginning transfer of functions now. If you need any local assistance before Basque local morning, the Assistant Chief Judge of the Basque House of Jurors has agreed to be on call with her staff."

"Understood, will there be anything else?" Troi asked.

"Other than reminding your Captain of our planned meeting at the Mount Ararat Royal Retreat tomorrow afternoon, no," William said. "I'll notify you when we're back up and running."

"Understood, Enterprise out."

* * *

Marrissa had been put in charge of directing the Enterprise side of operations for this rescue mission. She had the entire starboard side of the Bridge at work on the task. She had at first wanted to be part of the teams sent down to the planet, but rational thought prevailed. She was just short of fourteen years of age and didn't have much that she could contribute on planet, besides running the planet side control center. That job had been Riker's from the beginning. The Enterprise had been stripped to create as many as possible of those teams. It was her job to make sure that all those teams got the information they needed and went to the place that they were needed most.

Her team's consoles surged with more tasks, and she proportioned them out to the four officers seated on the starboard side of the bridge. Then there was a pause in incoming tasks, so she looked up to see how everyone was doing. Counselor Troi was seated in the center seat as she was one of the few officers on the Command Crew who didn't have a critical role associated with their job. On the port side of the bridge was the science team that Marrissa had suggested be moved to the bridge. There was a stellar scientist trying to figure out where the asteroid had come from, a geologist watching for any aftershocks, of which there had been many so far, of the impact, and a meteorologist watching Tropical weather around the Prometheus Isthmus.

Marrissa's successor at the helm, Sassafras, was lightly tapping out minor orbit adjustments so that the Enterprise remained at the best geo-synchronic position for operations, allowing for the presence of the other vessels that had arrived to assist.

The Papal Vessel Trinity was in orbit, fortunately it had been transporting a Hospital Order to form a new convent through the area along with the pontiff. They had been of great assistance given the large number of wounded that had been found on the edges of the impact zone.

Marrissa was spending a great deal of her time on the bridge. She'd caught a cat nap about an hour before in the Ready Room at her father's insistence, and her lunch had been with him as well, though he'd had to drag her into the Ready Room to eat. That was when she'd found out about Pope Gregory. Marrissa considered herself a Catholic, but only because that's what her mother had been. She knew a few prayers, and had actually had her first Reconciliation and Eucharist, but it had been years since her last confession or Sunday Mass.

The aft portside turbolift opened, revealing her friend Clara's father, Lieutenant junior grade Daniel Sutter. It was strange to think that she actually out-ranked the man. "Is the Captain available, Counselor?" he asked, stepping up to the center seat. It looked like he'd just come from the impact zone. His uniform was dust-covered, and according to Marrissa's chart, he was supposed to be getting a few hours off to rest before returning to the planet.

"The Captain has been expecting you. You are the senior most Essexite on board. Go right in," Counselor Troi said, with a smile. The door opened for Mr. Sutter's entrance without him having to pause.

As soon as the door closed behind Lieutenant Sutter, the Counselor turned towards Marrissa. Her face dropped into a serious expression, as Marrissa caught her eyes. "Marrissa, you are aware that your friend Clara is a Princess?"

"Yes, we've been teasing her about it for years," Marrissa said. She knew that Alexander in particular liked to bring it up. "This is the planet, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Counselor Troi said seriously. "Until this impact, she was about thirtieth in line. Now she's probably about third or fourth in line, depending on how many royals were in the Capital at the time of impact. And even though she grew up on starships, she did know a lot of her Essexite cousins, as there were a lot of the late King's grandchildren her age. Do you remember how you were right after your parents died?"

"Yes," Marrissa said. She had barely functioned for that first day after Commander Riker told her that her parents were dead. It had only been the shaking of the Enterprise saucer under enemy fire that had pulled her out of that and back, and even then that had just been to distract herself with the bonds of duty. It wasn't until her visit to France that she truly had started leaving her grief behind her.

"I suspect that Clara may chose the call of duty route," Troi continued. "If you can find a way to prevent that, I'd be most appreciative."

"I don't know if I can do that with my schedule right now," Marrissa said, almost scowling at the thought that she didn't have time for her best girl friend. It had been at least two weeks since they had even passed each other in the corridor.

Marrissa returned to her tasks after a moment. The Starship Magdeburg had just updated her ETA, and she had twenty-two minutes to decide how to allocate that Nebula Class Starship's resources in the disaster. Surprisingly, it looked like she might actually be almost able to cover most of the immediate needs. Silently she thanked whoever had diverted the Magdeburg from the Regulas Sector, and her captain, Johann Tilly for making sure she got to Essex so quickly.

* * *

Clara was trying not to be in the way in the busy ward that she'd help set up in Cargo Bay Six. Officially, she was supposed to be on standby in Main Engineering, but when word came down about exactly what planet had been hit and who had been hit the hardest, she just couldn't concentrate on duty. Lieutenant Barclay had understood, though, and let her take on some non-critical tasks that were below what her new Lieutenant junior grade pips would normally have her doing.

So she'd been assigned to set up and monitor the ward that Doctor Hyshita was running now. She'd been about to leave to go off duty for a while when the first patient had arrived in the ward. Clara had been stunned at first when she recognized the young girl. Hilda was her second cousin, and the granddaughter of the King. Clara was the granddaughter of the King's youngest brother. They'd met a couple times, and were pen pals.

Doctor Hyshita's staff was just entering at the moment. The Sisters of Mercy were helping staff this extended ward, and somehow Clara had ended up handing Doctor Hyshita instruments for a bit. They'd had to amputate both of Hilda's legs. They had been mangled and bloody. Clara had no idea how she had kept from throwing up when she was watching her cousin lose her legs. Afterwards, she'd taken a seat next to her sleeping cousin, occasionally doing rounds of the equipment to make sure everything was staying connected in the jury-rigged ward.

It was strange to see the white garbed nuns moving around assisting patients and even operating. Somehow all of their habits remained white, even when dealing with the bloody cases that were being sent up to the cluster of beds next to the Cargo Transporter.

"That's it ladies, this ward is full," Doctor Hyshita said. "Take ten minutes and then the OR team will be going to Cargo Bay Ten to join Doctor Selar. Sister Faith, let's take a round of this ward before I have to go. It's going to be a very long night."

The Asian doctor approached the bed that had Hilda laying in it. Along with her came one of the Sisters of Mercy, her white habit obscuring all but her face, which appeared to be ageless. The nun radiated calm and confidence as she stood opposite the bed from Clara.

"This one we actually have a name to go with, Sister Faith," Hyshita said. "Hilda Santina Elyssa. I don't think Elyssa's a last name though."

"It's not," Clara interupted "She's actually Lady Hilda Santina Elyssa of Araby, daugther of the King's second daughter. She's my second cousin."

"Then I probably shouldn't have asked you to help with her treatment, but I'm glad I did," Hyshita said, with just a hint of a smile. "You were very helpful when she arrived just before we were really open here. She should be waking up any time now and it would be a good idea to have a familiar face around when she does. She's a good candidate for cloned regeneration." Hyshita went on to the next patient as Sister Faith adjusted Hilda's sheet.

"Not having any legs is going to be a big shock for her," Sister Faith. "As a recall Lady Hilda liked to run. I'll make sure all the preps are done try to get her to regrow her legs. It's experimental, but she's young and that helps a lot." Sister Faith leaned over Hilda and gently wiped her forehead. The young girl's eyes flickered open. "Were am I?" she asked, looking around. "And I still can't feel my legs!"

"You're aboard the Enterprise, Hilda," Clara said, as her cousin's eyes locked with her. "They had to amputate your legs to save your life."

Hilda's eyes widened and then started to fill with tears. "But I was supposed to run in the Londondairy children's 5K run next week," she sobbed. "Now I won't even be able to walk to see it." Clara didn't think there would be a Londondairy any time soon.

"Hilda, I don't think there is going to be a 5K run in Londondairy any time soon," Sister Faith said, gently placing her hand on the young girl's shoulder.

"What happened to me?" the little girl sobbed. "The last thing I remember was Greta and I trying to stay up late at our sleep over. Then there was this big boom and we were flying through the air."

"An asteroid hit Londondairy," Clara said, tears also going down her cheeks. "It hit right near the Palace where all you lived. I thought all of you were dead. They're sure that King George is, as well as all of Prince Andrew's children save Princess Victoria."

"Mom, Dad, Sahid, Anna, Christina, and Jana were all at the Palace, too," Hilda said, still sobbing. Her head was bowed as grief overtook her. "Only Tory and I weren't home."

"You know, she's going to make it a royal order that we don't call her that," Clara said through her own tears. "She's Queen now."

"Yes, she will, but I'm not going to obey it," Hilda said, looking up. "She can't make me. Can someone help me sit up. I don't want to lay down like this." Sister Faith gently raised the bed head a bit. "Thank you Sister. They're all dead aren't they?"

"I don't know, but I'll try to find out for you," Clara promised. "Do you know if any of your other aunts and their families were home?"

"Aunt Theresa and Aunt Alexandra had just come in when I left for my sleep over with Greta," Hilda said, tears still going down her cheeks. Sister Faith offered her a cotton handkerchief. "Aunt Margaretta was trying to chase down little Kenji, so I think they were all in the palace."

"Is there anything I can get you, Hilda?" Clara asked, her own tears under control for the moment. "I have to report to Engineering, and I probably should let the Captain know about what you told me."

"Can you find me a paper copy of Brutus, a History?" Hilda asked, dabbing her cheeks to clear the trail of tears.

"I'll bring one back with me within the hour, Hilda," Clara promised, before standing up and walking to the Cargo Bay doors. She turned and waved back at her cousin before departing.

* * *

Queen Victoria slid from her bed and stretched. A look at the bedside clock told her that she'd gotten at least eight good hours of sleep. She tiptoed over to the desk in the room, not bothering to put on more than the short gown she already had on, despite the cold floor and the slight chill to the stone walled room deep within Charles II's Saint Leire Castle. She carefully brought up her messages, trying not to wake her still sleeping Prime Minister from where he'd been beside her.

She scrolled through the headers, spotting two of note. The first was from Clara, a second cousin of hers aboard the Enterprise. She was glad that her cousin Hilda had survived, even if she'd suffered some pretty bad injuries. There was also bad news in the message. Hilda had confirmed that most of her missing family had been at the Palace which had been at the very center of the impact zone. For a moment, Victoria allowed herself to cry. She'd lost so much in such a short time. Then realizing the noise she was making in the echoing stone room, she brought herself under control, wiping her eyes with the corner of her gown.

Then she opened the next message. It was from Clara's father, Prince Daniel, one of her own father's best friends. It was a confirmation of what all of King George IV's family on Essex had already known. It would be hard for them not to be, being how proud the King had been of the Grandchild he'd never seen.

"That is going to make things very interesting today," William said from right behind her. Victoria jumped as she whipped around toward the voice.

"We already knew that it was going to be an interesting meeting," Victoria said. "You know she probably doesn't even know that she's Royalty?" William just wore those silk boxers that Victoria had so wanted him to take off the night before, but had been too tired to suggest it.

"The King respected his second son's decision to cut off all contact," William said, moving to sit on another chair next to Victora, turning it around so he straddled it, his elbow propped on it's back. "He probably wouldn't even had know about the Earl of Flores's child if her mother hadn't been thoughtful enough to send him a copy of the birth announcement. I think its still up in the Mount Ararat Royal Retreat's Reception Room along with all that other stuff he collected over the years from her mother."

"Don't forget all those copies of the article from the Vulcan Science Academy Journal ... I think it may be the only Journal to stay there for more than a month," Victoria said, recalling when King George had pressed that copy into her own hands. Victoria was an Engineer by training, having an apprentice's slot at Royal Essex Starcraft since her fourteenth summer. She knew very little about quantum filaments, much less how they moved, even though she had passed her Science Classes at Dragon University with flying colors. The article had given her a great appreciation for the dangers of running into one, though.

"Victoria, is she why you asked for the Captain and Chief of Security to meet with us at Mount Ararat?" William said, with a very serious expression.

"Yes, it's where my Grandfather felt most at home, and I think she needs to know that even though he never met her, he still loved her," Victoria said, with a slightly sad expression. "He might not been able to welcome her home, but at least I've been given the chance to do it in his place. Besides, she's now next in line. She needs to know what she's in for."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Marrissa and Captain Picard beamed down outside the Mount Ararat Royal Retreat. It appeared to be a rambling log structure next to a steel and concrete telescope dome. The dome was closed at the moment, but the carved wooden double doors to the Retreat were swung wide open.

As their feet crouched on the white crushed stone, Marrissa took in the view. They were on the northwest side, and she could see for quite a distance. Snow was piled up to the sides of the path, despite the fact that they were very close to the Equator. Marrissa wondered how tall the mountain was, briefly, before she found her boots stomping on the rough hewn wooden steps.

As they reached the door, Prime Minister William Lancaster stepped out. He was dressed in a tan thick woolen shirt and black stiff pants. It definitely wasn't the formal outfit she had expected. That explained why her father had insisted that they keep to the regular duty uniform.

"Captain, Marrissa," the Prime Minister said. Marrissa didn't like the sudden familiarity she heard in his tone. "I'm afraid that Victoria has just found her spare clothes closet, so we'll be just a minute. I've laid out some tea and biscuits in the Reception Room for while you wait." He gestured at another ornately carved door, inside the entryway. "I'll see if I can get her moving."

Her father slid open the door for Marrissa. The room she entered was a long narrow one with sofas. The walls were clad in some dark paneling and covered with framed photos. Most of them had blond hair like she did. They all seemed to have a familiar feel to them that Marrissa couldn't quite place.

Her father took a seat on a sofa in front of a low long table. On the table there was a tea set with four empty cups, a pot of steaming tea, some cookies, and an assortment of scientific journals. She sat down on the other end of the sofa from her father, as he poured himself a cup. He took a deep breath of the steam from the cup. "Earl Gray, I see someone has done their research," he said. "Would you like a cup, Marrissa?"

"No thank you," Marrissa replied. Tea was not high on her list of things she liked to drink. She did pick up one of the cookies, a plain butter cookie, before returning to her examination of her surroundings.

The journals were all scientific ones, leaning towards the stellar sciences. Marrissa was familiar with most of them. One of them had an ornate red bookmark with a golden tassel sticking out of it. She slid it out from under the others. It was the Vulcan Science Academy Journal. In particular it was the young scholar's issue from almost two years before. Curious, she turned to the page that the book mark was marking. It was right on page 121, which started a new article, an article that Marrissa was very familiar with, "Quantum Filaments: Historical Encounters and Possible Projection Methods."

In the little author's description box above the right-hand column was her own picture. For some reason whoever had left this book mark had placed it on Marrissa's only published article, from when she'd considered the Stellar Sciences as a career option. That had been before she had secured what had nearly always had been her first choice, a firm footing on Star Fleet's Command Track. For a moment, she considered re-reading the article, as it had been a long time since she had pulled it out to review, but other questions pushed that thought away.

Marrissa was beginning to think there was some sort of mystery going on around her. The chance of the two-year-old journal being on the coffee table was vanishingly thin. Book marked on her article? Marrissa was sure that Data could quote the odds, but they'd be so high that she was sure she wouldn't have the concept of exactly how high the number was.

She put the journal down. Her father was trying to hide a smile behind his cup of tea. There was obviously something going on here. A glance at the Captain was all she had to do to determine that he was waiting for something before he said anything.

Marrissa looked around the room again. The photos came in three sizes, and seemed to be grouped together. All but the largest had a roman numeral carved along the bottom. The largest, from their formal attire had to be the late King and Queen. There were six of the next size, two Lords and four Ladies. Both of the Lords resembled her father, the second more than the first. Around the six were arranged several of the smaller size pictures. The eldest of the Lords had nine pictures, from a girl that had to be at least the age of most cadets to a small baby dressed in blue. The eldest Lady had two toddler boys around her. Two of the other Ladies had five children around them, one boy four girls on the one with the green eyes, and the reverse with the one with the blue eyes. There were two that only had one picture next to them. The Lady with just one had a mischievous looking boy.

She'd been avoiding looking at the remaining Lord. The picture was obviously older than the others in the hall, and had black matting around it. The outfit was much more informal than the others, and the Lord stood stiff in it. It reminded her of her biological father's first year cadet picture. The Lord had the same dimple in his left cheek that her father had, and just like her father had, there was that slight scar line down the right jaw-line. Uncomfortable at further examination, she shifted to the small picture to it's right.

The small picture was of a girl that couldn't be more than ten. She had blond hair, done up in a pony tail. She wore a deep green jump suit with a golden collar along it's v-neck. In the background was an open door, with a bit of corridor seen behind it. The girl was smiling, as if she had some big news to give whoever was behind the camera.

Marrissa knew what that news was. The picture had been taken of her the day that Captain Picard had agreed to be her mentor. She remembered that green jumpsuit. It had been her favorite. The picture was of her.

...

Queen Victoria adjusted her blouse before entering the Reception Room. She wanted to be at her best when she entered. It was not every day that you met a long lost Princess. That was why she'd spent so long going through her closet at the Retreat. Dress at the retreat was informal traditional. For the men that meant black pants of a sturdy type, and plain tan button down shirts. For the girls, warm woolen blouses, usually either blue, green, or purple, with the men's black pants or a woolen skirt that flirted below the knee. She had chosen a grey skirt today, along with a very comfortable red blouse.

She shivered a moment as the wind blew a gust of cold air though the open outside doors. A quick look at what had become Victoria's always nearby guard resulted in them being closed very quickly without a word being said. Then she approached the door, William sliding it open before she entered.

Marrissa was sitting on the edge of the sofa in the middle of the room, her gaze locked on her own picture across the room. Her mouth had opened slightly, and her eyes were wide, as if something had suddenly surprised her.

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard, may I present her majesty, Queen Victoria the First of Essex, Head of State and Ruler of this star system," Prime Minister Lancaster introduced, as the Captain stood. Marrissa stood as well, but a little delayed in comparison to her commanding officer.

"Your Majesty," Captain Picard said, nodding. "This is my Chief of Security and adopted daughter, Lieutenant Marrissa Picard." Marrissa bowed, as Clara had told her protocol demanded.

"Please, sit down," Victoria said, moving to a high backed stuffed chair across from the sofa. She sat down, examining the Lieutenant. The young girl had schooled herself into a serious expression, and was sitting rather stiffly on the overstuffed sofa. Her uniform was in perfect order, zipped up entirely, unlike the Captain's who let his mock turtleneck show down to where the black portion of the uniform started.

"I wish to thank you for your assistance, especially last night," William said once everyone was seated. "I don't think any of us would have gotten any sleep if you hadn't been available to run things for a bit."

"Marrissa deserves much of the credit," the Captain said. "She has been running the on-ship search-and-rescue coordination."

"My compliments on a job well done, then Lieutenant," William said. The girl nodded her acceptance of the thanks, as her gaze shifted over Victoria's shoulders to the collection of pictures around Victoria's own father. Her expression had tightened, with her mouth now a thin straight line, and her eyes were focusing between the pictures and Victoria.

"Pope Gregory and the Trinity have also been of great assistance," Jean-Luc continued. "I'm not sure that we would have been able to handle the load we had without the Sisters of Mercy."

"Indeed. Most people tend to forget about the religious orders in today's world, I'm afraid," William said, picking up his own cup of tea.

Victoria was still studying Marrissa. The girl had just taken a deep breath and let it out, with her jaw thrust forward, causing a few hairs that were loosely crossing her forehead to flutter in the resulting air current. "Is there something you want to know, Marrissa?" she asked softly.

Marrissa's gaze shifted to her father, as if asking permission for a moment. Her shoulders dropped as she turned away from him apparently having been denied. Then they rose and Marrissa stared directly into Victoria's eyes. The amethyst pairs of eyes locked together, as Marrissa's jaw clenched in determination. "I want to know exactly why you chose to meet us here, and why I had to be included."

Victoria let her right eyebrow rise slowly. Out of one corner of her eye, she could see Captain Picard starting to reach out to place his hand on her shoulder. Marrissa was suddenly standing, Victoria hadn't even seen her start to move.

"There is no real reason for us to meet here, unless this house, this room, has the reason," Marrissa in a very even tone, almost cold, as she gestured at the pictures. "And I think I have to be the reason. So, just how many of these people are dead?"

"All but three," Victoria replied. She was surprised at the catch in her throat as she went on. "Just Lady Hilda, you, and me."

"And just who got the big idea to put that picture of me on the wall?" Marrissa said. Her voice was cold, with a final tone to it. "I'm no Princess."

"I'm afraid that's not exactly true," Captain Picard said, standing up and placing his arm around his adopted daughter. "Your father's real name wasn't George Earl Flores, but His Royal Highness Prince George, Earl of Flores. At his death he was ninth in line for the throne of Essex."

Marrissa shook off the arm. "If that was true, then why did you adopt me?" she said. Tears were beginning to go down her cheeks. "Commander Riker said that I would have been put in an orphanage if you hadn't adopted me."'

"Your father's will specifically forbid you going to live with relatives," Jean-Luc said, kneeling just a bit to look directly into Marrissa's eyes on her level. "I was made your legal guardian in the will, as you were made ward of the ship. I think your father's intention was for me to send you to a boarding school until you were of age, but I decided to adopt you and keep you on the Enterprise instead."

Marrissa nodded her acceptance, and for a moment remained in an accepting, yet sad posture. The Captain's arm found its way onto her shoulder again, as he stood up straight. Then almost as suddenly as her tears had started, her expression hardened and she turned to face Victoria again. "I suppose you can explain just how a Prince of Essex ended up in Star Fleet estranged from his entire family to the point that he didn't tell his own daughter where he was from?"

Victoria cringed as the determined stare bored into her. She wished she knew the story, but she didn't. She'd always felt it was strange that her grandfather had been so proud of the girl that stood before her's accomplishments, yet never contacted her. Every one of her younger cousins around Marrissa's age always seemed to be compared to her. Victoria had been the only female grandchild older than what her cousins called the missing beloved princess, and escaped it. She had to look away from the glare.

"I believe I can explain," William said, his baritone a welcome interruption. Marrissa's gaze shifted towards him, and Victoria let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. "Victoria was only three when your father left. I was ten, and my father was Prime Minister at the time, so I got first hand accounts of the family crisis. You might want to sit down. This could take a while."

Marrissa took a seat on the edge of the sofa, looking like she was ready to bolt at any moment. Victoria could see her eyes staring right at her Prime Minister and boyfriend. The Captain also sat down, but Victoria barely noticed it.

"On Essex there are three titles for royalty that have actual responsibilities behind them," William began. "The first is King, or Queen as we have now. The second is the Heir Seats in Parliament, and the third is Etxearen Erregela Jaun, or Lord of the Ruler's House. It was this last position that caused your father to leave Essex and become estranged from his father, your grandfather."

"Etxearen Erregela Jaun is a post on the island of Basque," William said. "When your father turned seventeen, the previous Etxearen Erregela Jaun died. King nominated your father, as his second son, to take over the job."

"In any case, Prince George didn't want the job, and didn't want to go anywhere near Basque, especially Basque's Capital, Flores," William said. "King George didn't give him a choice and he was installed as Etxearen Erregela Jaun." He pointed out the scar, whose line marred Marrissa's father's jaw-line. "Your father got this scar on the way back from the installation ceremony. He was attacked by his ex-girlfriend's younger brother. Apparently she'd committed suicide shortly after his position was announced. I don't know the whole story behind it. I don't think anyone who's alive now does. Two days later there was a big argument in this very room."

"You notice that the frame of this picture is different than the rest?" William pointed out. Marrissa was staring directly at the picture, and nodded. "Your father destroyed the original and the photo that had been in the frame during the argument. The next day he was gone from Essex. Later we found that he'd stowed away on a ship owned by your mother's father."

"At first, the King refused to speak of his second son, then we found your father's only act as Etxearen Erregela Jaun," William said. "He'd pardoned his ex-girlfriend's younger brother. Prince Andrew, Victoria's father and the eldest son, found it and made sure it was carried out. Then Andrew spent the next three years trying to find his brother. This picture was taken when he did. Your father still held the grudge, but Andrew promised not to tell where your father was."

"When you turned two, your father still didn't want to contact his father, but your mother managed to get some pictures and recordings of you to the King by way of Prince Andrew," William said. "My father said that you thawed the King's heart. Several letters were sent to your father, but all of them were returned to sender. Your mother kept sending pictures, and notes. She wished that she could have convinced your father to change things."

"So, it's all my father's fault that I didn't know my royal connections," Marrissa said. "Somehow I doubt that." Victoria was surprised at the continued cold tone. "And what makes you think that I would be willing to take up the cross that my father refused."

"You have no choice in that matter," Victoria said, sternly. "You are the next in line to the throne, the fourteenth Princess of Halifax."

"And I suppose that means that you want me kept safe," Marrissa said, firmly.

"Of course, you can't be risked given how threadbare the line of succession is at the moment," Victoria replied, in stern tone, noting that Marrissa's jaw had once again clinched tight.

"I'm a Chief of Security on a Federation Starship," Marrissa said in a low challenging tone as she stood up. Each word came out slowly and forcefully. "Risk is my business."

"Marrissa, it wouldn't hurt to take reasonable precautions, at least until things settle down," Captain Picard said, putting his tea back on the table.

"And who defines settled down or reasonable," Marrissa said, turning to face her adopted father. "Will it be the same reasonable restrictions you've been giving me since I became Chief of Security, preventing me from doing my job? Will being settled down be one week, two weeks, a month, or when she has an heir and a spare?"

"I'm sure it won't be that long," William said. "And it's only reasonable that your position merits more protection."

"Let me make one thing very clear, Mister Prime Minister," Marrissa said, turning toward him so quickly that her hair wrapped around her body. "I am a Star Fleet Officer like my father was, and I intend to stay one and do my duty. I will not let anyone, be it Minister, Queen, or Captain, prevent me from doing so to the best of my ability."

"We're only concerned for your safety, Marrissa," Victoria said, trying to interject some calm into the storm which she saw before her. Marrissa's eyes were practically flashing as she stared down the others in the room. "We are your family after all."

"I have no family but my ship," Marrissa replied, turning and rushing out of the room. The sliding carved door was knocked out of its housing as she went through it, clunking onto the floor. She was gone before anyone moved.

...

Marrissa jumped down the steps out front of the retreat. Behind her she heard the guard yell in pain. The door must have landed on him. Marrissa didn't care. Her life had turned upside down again. She had just really gotten used to having the Captain as her dad. She'd put away all the stuff her parents had gotten her, telling herself that there was no place for them on the new Enterprise. She hadn't seen a picture of them in four months.

One, two, three, four, Marrissa's boots crunched on the gravel path as a bit of steam rose from it. Four months that she'd totally put her dead family out of her mind. The parents whose deaths had caused her to cry for hours in the Ready Room, not bothering to eat or sleep. She'd spent months with Troi talking about it, trying to get past it. She thought she had. She hadn't spared a single thought for them for four months.

Marrissa's breath came out in puffs of fog as she ran, fast, down the gravel path, away from the Retreat. And now her father's family which she had never known suddenly appeared before her. They demanded Marrissa's attention, her life, and her service. They were the family that had never contacted her, even when both her parents had died, leaving her an orphan. They should be ashamed of themselves, feel guilty for the way they had treated her.

Marrissa suddenly came to a rock observation point, the end of the trail, and had to stop. Her breath came out in forceful even breaths, as the cold air blew up the slope. Marrissa wanted to be angry at them, but that anger had drained from her during her run downslope. The image of her father's photo from the Retreat flashed before her. She missed him. She had been daddy's little girl, and he had been the center of her world for most of her life.

She stared out at the plain below, with a meandering river going through fields into the distance. Marrissa had forgotten her father. A stab of guilt struck her heart. She remembered the room she'd run from, with even the estranged Prince and his daughter represented, the marked presence of her lone publication, the obvious pride shown by the late King in the arrangement of the room for all his children and grandchildren. She couldn't even keep a single simple picture of her father in view. Just looking at that picture had nearly brought her to tears.

Marrissa slumped against the rock railing, and bowed her head. She pulled her uniform jacket open, nearly ripping it with her force. It shouldn't be like that. It would be two years next month since they'd died. She shouldn't be going to tears every time she saw a picture of them. She was a teenager, an officer, nearly an adult in many ways. It shouldn't hurt so much.

She buried her face in her hands, and let her tears flow. Her life had been ripped apart again. Her sobs were lost in the wind for the next hour. No one came to comfort her. She was alone, torn from everything she knew.

...

Hilda looked up from the hardbacked book that she was reading when the door to the cargo bay turned medical ward opened. Her cousin Clara was entering, almost giggling, as she waved goodbye to another girl in uniform. She carefully put the book mark in between the pages of Brutus, a History, and closed the book. It had been almost a day since she'd been rescued by an away team from the Enterprise, and she had almost recovered her health.

"Afternoon, Hilda," Clara said, with a big grin.

"Clara," Hilda acknowledged. "What's so funny?"

"You know my friend Marrissa?" Clara asked, taking a seat at the end of Hilda's bed.

"Yes, the girl that's the Security Chief," Hilda replied, putting the book down next to her. It was trickier than it looked. Without her legs to stabilize her she'd nearly fallen off the bed the last time.

"Well, she's been teasing me about being a Princess forever," Clara said. "It's really gotten annoying. Just a few minutes ago Dad told me who she really is." Clara nearly broke out in giggles. "It seems that she's the Missing Beloved Princess Marrissa." Now Clara broke out into giggles. "She's been telling me that Princesses are stuck in the past and she's now the Princess of Halifax!"

Clara's giggles were infectious and Hilda found herself joining them despite her best efforts. It felt good to giggle instead of cry, like she had been for most of her time since she awoke on the Enterprise. "She's next in line? Oh the poor girl."

"Yes, and you're now number two," Clara said, bringing her giggles under control. "I'm fifth, behind my dad."

"We really lost a lot, didn't we?" Hilda said, her tears returning again. Clara joined her in tears. Clara moved closer so the two could hold each other in their arms. After a minute, Hilda felt a tap on her shoulders and looked up. Sister Faith was standing beside the girls. "Yes, Sister?"

"Your friend Greta is awake and asking for you," Sister Faith said. "She says that she won't go back to sleep until she sees you, so Doctor Picard sent me for you."

"Clara, can you come with me?" Hilda asked, as they broke their embrace. Hilda could see the wheelchair that the Sisters of Mercy had brought on board for her beside the bed. It was practically an antique, with big wheels and no electronic controls. Clara nodded, wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her Star Fleet uniform.

Sister Faith helped Hilda down into the wheelchair, strapping her in place with a four-point harness. Clara moved to go behind Hilda and push, but Hilda shook her head. She could get there on her own. It just took getting used to pushing the large wheels. Hilda wanted no assistance in the matter.

She followed Sister Faith out of the cargo bay and down a few corridors. The door they went through was obviously to a purpose-built Sickbay, and the beds were all occupied with people surrounded by medical equipment. Six people in Star Fleet Uniform with the blue turtle necks moved between the beds, checking on all of them. Sister Faith came to stop in front of a small patient, bound with bandages, and hooked up to a large number of medical devices.

Hilda maneuvered her wheelchair around to the bed's side, bringing its occupant into view. It was clearly Greta. Part of her long blue-black hair had been sheared off. Her bronze skin was cris-crossed with small cuts, and pale new skin where larger ones had been regenerated. There were deep circles around her eyes, and a haunted look in them. Her left arm was tightly wrapped up, and there was a large bandage around her chest. "Hilda?" the hoarse voice said, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Greta?" Hilda replied, her tears flowing. Greta had survived. Until this point she hadn't been willing to believe it. All her family was dead. All she had ever known had been destroyed. The entire city was flattened. It had been a miracle that she had survived, from what she'd heard. It hadn't seemed possible that the miracle could include others, not in the midst of such sorrow.

"You're alive," Greta whispered. "Someone else survived. I'm not alone." Hilda reached up and took Greta's hand in hers. Clara's hand was on her shoulder, and the tears streaked down all three girls' cheeks.

"Now that you've seen your friend, Greta, it's time you get some rest," a female voice said from behind her. Hilda turned enough to see the speaker, a Star Fleet Commander with long red hair. "You need rest to recover. So does Hilda, right Sister Faither?"

"You are correct, Doctor Picard," Sister Faith said, taking hold of the handles of Hilda's chair.

"Greta, I will make sure Hilda visits, but you have to rest now," Doctor Picard said, taking out a hypospray. "And no more objections to medicine, young lady."

"She's the Lady," Greta said as Doctor Picard injected the hypo into her. "Good Night Hilda." Greta fell asleep almost immediately. Hilda sat next to Greta's bed for quite some time before she allowed Sister Faith to roll her out of Sickbay.

...

Martin Sussex stood before a mirror in his father's house. He'd been told that he was to look his best for his father's dinner guests. It wasn't often that he got to attend a dinner with his father. He lived with his Mother in the small mountain town of Lithglow near the source of the Sheik River, a calm place to grow up away from the bustle of Essex's Capital, Londondairy. The sleek scarlet satin pants, a golden water-cloth shirt, and deep scarlet overcoat, left open at the front, was a deep contrast to the boy's usual comfortable attire. It certainly wouldn't have fit for his usual afternoon playing in the forest behind the Inn his mother ran.

Martin hadn't seen his mother in two days. In fact she hadn't even called him. That would have worried him, if his father hadn't told him that the remaining royals were all under individual protection details, scattered throughout Essex, after the impact on Londondairy and the death of Martin's Great Uncle, the King. Martin felt it was very unfair, but at least he got to stay with his father, something he didn't get to do often.

"Master Martin, you father wishes for you to join him in the salon," the voice of the old butler said from the door.

"Please lead the way, Worthington," Martin replied in his most polite tone, as he turned to face the door. He had learnt that in his father's house, polite formality was the rule of the day. The ancient butler nodded his acceptance of the acknowledgment, before adjusting his white gloves and leading the young boy and his two guards out of the room.

Martin could here the precise steps of his guard to his right and left, slightly behind him. They stepped in perfect unison, the stereo sounds of their dull black boots echoing in the hallway. Up ahead, the butler opened a pair of double doors and stepped into the room, pausing to announce, "Lord Martin Sussex Dessalines." Martin winced at the butler's use of his father's last name being used as his. He only used his mother's, as he lived with her.

The butler stepped aside and let Martin have his first look at those gathered in the room. It was a small gathering, no more than a dozen people, mostly men. His father stood by the fire, dressed in a similar outfit to Martin's, save that his shirt was silver. His father left the fire, turning toward Martin. A couple men tailed his father's strong strides across the room.

"Martin, I'd like to introduce you to a few good friends of mine," his father said, taking Martin's hand. "This is Headmaster Cavazos of Scholastica Cervates, you'll be attending his school this fall." The headmaster had patrician features and short curly red hair, and his skin was a light shade of bronze. He was dressed seriously in charcoal gray coat and trousers, matching the expression formed by his lips. Martin acknowledged his future headmaster with a nod. "And this is Colonel Dominic Mastrogiovann."

"Colonel Mastrogovon," Martin said, stumbling over the name. "I watch your program every week." The Colonel was a heavy-set man, whose hard worn face, and white wispy hair always seemed project confidence in whatever he was proposing.

"I see that I'm getting some of the preteen demographics," the Colonel said, with a smile. "And please, call me Mastro, young Martin. I do hate to hear people stumbling over my name."

"Over by the window is Kanak Rao, president and owner of Rao Power Unlimited," Ely said. A thin Asian man stood talking with another stocky man. "And Lance Suddarth, operator of Meridian Spacecraft." The lone woman in the room was now approaching, dressed in Essex's traditional feminine dinner attire, her dark blue overdress contrasting with her long curly red hair. "You, of course, already know my colleague from Marinas, Kathleen McDougal"

"I trust I won't be patching up your knees tonight, Martin," Kathleen said, with a big smile. "Though I have to admit that I brought my bag anyway."

"That is reassuring, Nurse McDougal," Ely said. "Lady and Gentlemen, my son Martin, who I believe is now about third or fourth in line to the throne now."

"Then young Martin here better be ready for the throne," Colonel Mastro said. "You never know when Romulans are going to cross the border. Now would be a very good time, the way our government is down to the bare cupboard."

"I agree, and it's not like Star Fleet is in any position to protect us," Cavaros said. "The Enterprise was the first ship of the line to stop by here in over three years, and that took a major disaster to happen. We might as well be independent. At least then we wouldn't be beholden to a central government that practically ignores us!"

"I wouldn't go as far as that, Francisco," McDougal said, as Martin started to walk towards the window, which had been vacated by Rao and Suddarth. "We have managed to get a few projects directed this way."

"You mean the stupid fightercraft project?" the Colonel said. "Putting a small number of craft designed for system defense on a converted frigate is a waste. Anyone will acknowledge that a frigate is useless in an interstellar battle, much less one whose armament has been butchered to add space for useless axillary craft. I hardly see how a project doomed to failure is going to help Essex."

Martin reached the window and tuned out the rest of the room as he stared out at the snow-covered slopes outside his father's house. It had to be below zero out there with the snow coming down like it was. He wondered if his Father would let him go play out in the snow later. It looked like it was perfect snowman making snow out there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Marrissa splashed water on her face again, before toweling it off. It had been late last night when she had finally beamed up from Essex. She'd spent most of the day curled up on the overlook on Mount Ararat. She'd missed her supper, subsisting on just a bowl of strawberries before she crawled exhausted into her bed.

The Search and Rescue phase was over. No one had been found for over a dozen hours in the wreckage around the Impact Zone. Before last night she'd gone almost forty hours with just three hour long catnaps in the Ready Room. As she'd been in effect charge of directing the resources of the three Starships that had arrived in orbit, she didn't feel that she could have spared more time for sleep.

Marrissa looked in the mirror. The circles around her eyes were gone, as were all signs of yesterday's tears. She reached over for her mock turtleneck, sliding the mustard yellow shirt over her head. She was still getting used to that color over the crimson that she'd worn for the past couple years in uniform. She tucked it neatly under her uniform pants, before fastening her two solid rank pips to its collar.

Her stomach growled. She was going to have to have very big breakfast today. Fortunately she'd gotten up early enough to afford the time, even after having slept for twelve straight hours. The uniform jacket went on easily. She'd gone up a size since she'd come on board the Enterprise-E. Marrissa was glad that she was in a growth spurt. The sooner she met her adult height, the better, as far as she was concerned. A quick well-practiced movement and her hair was up in her usual simple ponytail.

She exited the bathroom, walking into the main room of the Picard Family Quarters. It was mercifully empty. Her dad's new wife, the Doctor, was probably already doing her rounds of all the injured on the Enterprise that had been rescued over the last couple days. Who knew where the Captain was. Probably meeting with that Queen, Marrissa decided, approaching the replicator.

"Large glass of orange juice, a large stack of the type seven pancakes, grapefruit half, and extra napkins on tray," Marrissa ordered. A black tray appeared with a tall glass of orange juice; a bowl with half a grapefruit, liberally sprinkled with sugar on top; a plate with six pancakes covered in strawberry syrup and topped with whipped cream; and several red cloth napkins with the Star Fleet Logo on them in black printed on them. Marrissa took the tray to the dinning table, choosing to sit facing away from the window.

Marrissa began her meal by digging into her grapefruit. A spirt of juice sprayed out as she first put her spoon into the grapefruit, hitting her on her left cheek. She picked up a napkin and wiped it off. As she did, she saw a pile of pictures laying on the end of the table. The top one was of her, dressed in a long flowing gown for some formal dinner that her mother had insisted that she attend when she was eleven. Her father had called it her Princess gown. That had been the only reason she'd worn it. Yesterday had put a lot of her father's comments in a different light. He'd always been calling her Princess. She thought it was a nickname, like her mother calling father her prince charming. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe she was a princess.

She dug into her grapefruit. A Princess ... that was a fantasy. Plus Princesses weren't like they used to be. Clara was a Princess. She certainly wasn't a girl who was so delicate and sensitive that she could detect a pea under ten mattresses. The idea of her being an undiscovered Princess was just plain insane. Queen Victoria obviously needed to have her mind examined for even suggesting it. Still, she did have to admit that 'her royal highness Princess Lieutenant Marrissa' had a nice ring to it. The senior chiefs would all have a good laugh and probably consider it an sign of approaching insanity if she used it though. It certainly wouldn't be good for the discipline of Security. She'd been worried about that ever since she had to make that first duty roster for the department.

Grapefruit done, she turned to her pancakes. They weren't as good as they were when they where made by a real cook, no matter how much Clara said they were indistinguishable from the original pattern. Still, they were tasty. Marrissa pulled the picture of her in her Princess gown closer to her. She had no idea where these pictures came from but they did bring back a few good memories. Under the Princess Gown was a picture she hadn't seen in ages. It was of her father and mother in cadet dress uniform, standing before some priest with a red skullcap on. Her father was sliding a wedding ring onto her mother's finger. Her mother was already slightly swollen with pregnancy.

Heir to the throne. The phrase ran through her mind. She couldn't be that. She was a Star Fleet Officer. She was Chief of Security. She had her schoolwork to do. She didn't have time to be anything more than that, right now. She couldn't be heir to the throne. Queen Victoria was crazy. That's all there was to it. Her knife hit the plate with a clang as she finished cutting another piece of pancake off.

The starboard door to the quarters opened, revealing Captain Jean-Luc Picard. He took three steps into the room, the door closing behind him before he noticed Marrissa. "Good morning, Marrissa," he smiled. "I assume you slept well." Marrissa nodded. "I see you found the collection of pictures that King George kept. I mentioned to the Queen yesterday that you didn't have any pictures of your family on the Enterprise, so she sent these up."

Marrissa pushed the pictures away. She dug back into her pancakes, not sparing a word for her father. He hadn't even came after her when she'd run out of the Retreat, not that she would have welcomed his presence at the time. She needed that time alone.

"Chief Nelson informs me that security efficiency ratings are up this week," the Captain said. Marrissa welcomed the change of subject. "I believe that's the first time that's happened since you took over the department."

"It is," Marrissa said, between bites. "I don't think the non-coms like me much. Half of my problems are related to that. Chief Nelson said that I'd have to grow up fix that." Marrissa scraped the last bit of strawberry syrup off her plate.

The Captain nodded, still looking through the pictures. "I remember this one." He slid the picture over towards Marrissa. It was of her, Jay, Alexander, Clara, and Shayna, just after they returned from the field trip crash landing. None of them had changed yet. Both boys were just in their cut off pants, with bare chests. The girls wore just midriff covering shirts and cut off pants. All of them had knives hanging from vine holsters. "You all went native so quickly. I suspect if we'd been another couple days you would have been wearing grass skirts and leaves."

"We planned on it," Marrissa admitted, looking at the picture. "Shayna had one started." She put the picture aside and took a deep sip of her juice.

"And this one is priceless . . . " the Captain said, sliding another one over to her. It had her and Jay floating towards the ceiling. Jay had just gotten the courage to ask then eight-year-old Marrissa to dance when the gravity had suddenly gone out, sending them both floating up. The air currents had more effect on Marrissa's dress though, as it was floating up, revealing Marrissa's pink panties. "... am I to assume that this is the origin of all that teasing?"

"Yes!" Marrissa said, tossing the picture away. "I thought I had gotten rid of all of those pictures."

"Apparently not," the Captain said in an almost even tone. Marrissa could tell that there was a glint of amusement behind his eyes though. "I shall have to thank Queen Victoria for providing such enlightening photos of you."

"Please tell me that the naked corridor chase isn't in there," Marrissa groaned, remembering one of the other embarrassing pictures that her mother had taken.

"You, about age three, running naked through the corridors with your father chasing you, holding a dress?" the Captain said, holding a picture just out of Marrissa's view. Marrissa nodded, her face flushing. "Sorry, that's still at King George's Retreat. Queen Victoria has it."

"She's got all the embarrassing ones, doesn't she?" Marrissa moaned. "If any of my friends see them, she is so dead."

"Marrissa, I don't think you want to go that far," the Captain said. "If she dies, you become Queen."

"I do not," Marrissa said, standing. "I am not the heir to any planet." She did not need to hear that. "I will not become Queen, ever, and no one can say otherwise." Her face flushed with anger as her silverware dropped to the tray, and her chair rammed into the wall behind her. "I'm due on duty on the Bridge in ten minutes. Good bye."

Marrissa didn't even bother putting her tray back in the replicator, though she knew that the Captain would have some words for her that night for not doing so. She just strode over to the nearest door to the corridor and out it. Her pace was even and fast, as her anger drove her. She didn't pause until she reached the turbolift. It opened quickly for her. She took a deep breath and counted to ten, before she ordered. "Bridge."

...

Queen Victoria approached the Launchpad with a bit of nervousness. The rambling house that her great aunt, Clarrissa, Duchess of Norsex, lived in was an imposing structure. The front that she approached was the old core of the house, a style known in King Charles II's textbooks as Victorian. Victoria figured it was due for a revival, the old house was flanked by high walls on each side, extending to two steel and glass pillars, from which the Essexite flag flew. The Duchess's personal standard usually flew from the top of the main house, but as Victoria approached it was lowered. It took her a moment to realize what was happening. The Royal Standard was being raised in its place.

She climbed up the steps and found the door opened for her. The butler had never opened the door for her before. Then again, the last time she had come it was to report her progress in the Engineering Apprenticeship that she held with the Duchess's Royal Essexite Starcraft, Limited. That was probably one thing she was going to have to give up, one that she really didn't want to do. "Your Majesty," the butler said. "Her Grace is in the Solarium, she thought that you might join her and Nozomi for tea."

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Raequan," Victoria said. She had no idea where the Duchess got her butlers. The current one was at least two and a quarter meters tall and of a feline race, with well-groomed lavender fur. He wore a black suit and tails, his tail sticking out between them. His pace was smooth as he led her through the hallways to the Solarium.

The solarium faced the southwest, letting in the bright afternoon sun. Great Aunt Clarrissa was seated on a large high backed chair with bamboo arms, and a very thick green cushion. She wore one of her ornate gowns as she sat in the chair, like it was a throne. Her royal blue dress cascaded off her shoulders and down the seat to the ground like a gentle mist blowing off the mountains. Off to the side, her great-grand daughter sat on a stool, her paints and brushes arrayed on a table beside her, palette at hand and canvas before her. On the brick inside wall of the solarium were the pictures that Nozomi had painted, including one covered by a cloth.

Clarrissa stood at Victoria's approach as the butler announced, "Her Majesty, Queen Victoria." Nozomi stood as well, when Clarrissa made a tisking noise. Together they both curtsied to her. It was the first time anyone had accorded her that privilege. To be accorded it from family in private was doubly special, as family usually omitted such formality. Still, this was the Duchess, and all of her family had know that the Duchess insisted on propriety, at least since she turned fifty.

"Your Grace, you do us honor," Victoria replied in a formal tone as she could manage. "We come to you for your wisdom in a matter that we fear we have royally screwed." The Duchess had been the only person she could think of that she could get advice from in the matter of her heir, and she was worried that her Great-Aunt would demure giving any.

"It has been a long time since anyone has come to me about sexual advice," the Duchess said, with a wicked smile. "Please, have a seat, your majesty. Raequan should be back in a moment with our tea, and Nozomi would no doubt like to get back to her portraiture." She gestured towards a chair that matched hers.

Victoria took a seat in it. The last time Victoria had visited, she'd had to sit on a much less comfortable high backed stiff armed chair. This one was a lot more comfortable. The arms even gave a little as she placed her hands on them. "I'm afraid I'm not here to seek advice on sexual manners," she said.

"Pity. I used to be considered quite the catch," the Duchess said. Her eyes seemed to twinkle with the statement. "And the boys scored with me quite often." Victoria blushed at her Great Aunt's comments. The Duchess had had all four of her daughters before she turned eighteen, the youngest when she was thirteen. "But enough of my giving my brothers gray hair before their teens, though should you ask, I know a few places you can waylay the Prime Minister without causing any fuss."

"I'll keep that in mind, Aunt Clarrissa," Victoria said with a smile. She really didn't know where to start. "At present that's not a problem though. I'm afraid that my heir presumptive is."

"That would be Prince Daniel, I presume?" the Duchess said. "My youngest brother's son should hardly be any trouble, even if he followed in my poor nephew George's footsteps and ran off to Star Fleet."

"I wish it was Prince Daniel," Victoria said, sinking back into her chair. It was really quite comfortable. "I'm afraid I've just frightened away my heir, George's girl Marrissa." Frightened might be an understatement, Victoria thought, as she reflected on Marrissa's run from the room.

"She would be next in line after you," the Duchess reflected, as her butler reentered the room with the tea. "Ah, Raequan, you brought the tea. Raequan brews an excellent pot of tea, Victoria. Two lumps, Raequan." The duchess accepted her cup from the butler, who silently offered one to Victoria.

"One lump, Raequan," Victoria said, before accepting her cup. The butler went over to Nozomi next, who declined with a grimace.

"Refresh Nozomi's juice, Raequan," the Duchess said. In a quiet aside she confided to Victoria. "Nozomi can't stand tea. I can't understand it." Victoria nodded. It was odd that someone from the Royal line didn't like tea. It was the planetary drink of choice. "What is our line of succession now?"

"Well, we think we've settled it down, now," Victoria said, pausing to take a sip of her tea. It really was quite good. "First it's Marrissa, followed by the family miracle. Somehow Lady Hilda got thrown a full mile inside her best friend's residence in Samson Residential Tower. She lost her legs, but she's alive."

"I was against that tower's construction, one of the few Progressive Party Projects that I opposed," the Duchess said. "It was needless construction, ruined the skyline of Londondairy, never was filled, and was a pork barrel project of Ely Dessalines, but I have to admit it did have good engineering."

"It looks like about a dozen people from it survived, and it was the closest to the center of the impact of any structure with survivors," Victoria said, placing her cup on its saucer next to her chair. "Prince Daniel and his daughter are next in line after her."

"Ah, my namesake," the Duchess said, with a sigh. "You know she made Lieutenant Junior Grade on the same list as her father did, and her apprenticeship on the Enterprise has been going rather well, from what I hear. Her warp speed tables have proved to be quite accurate."

"I heard," Victoria said, smiling. The Essex Royal Family had more than its share of geniuses in their fields. In fact some said that the only thing that was holding the family back was the monarchy. "You made me read them all, including the notes she sent you when she was just theorizing. You make a great sounding board."

"Which, of course, is why you're here," the Duchess said, taking another sip of her tea.

"She's scared of being a Princess, Aunt," Victoria said. "That bloody Federation elitism has brainwashed her. It doesn't help that she didn't even know she was a Princess, and didn't know a single family member save Daniel and Clara ... you should have seen her expression as she looked at her father's picture in the Retreat. She was shocked, and once she was actually told, she was so mad. She wouldn't even accept the Captain, her adopted father's calming words. She ran out of there like she was being pursued by a rampaging Klingon. We didn't know where she went, and Captain Picard said she didn't return to the Enterprise until really late." Victoria took a deep breath.

"I see," the Duchess said, placing her tea on it's saucer and leaning towards Victoria. "I suppose that she could have had a better reaction, but given that she lost her parents almost two years ago and no one in the family has contacted her since, it was going to be bad. Right now, I imagine that she probably doesn't know what to think about it."

"What should I do?" Victoria asked looking down at her half-empty tea cup. She had no idea where to start.

"Take things slow," the Duchess advised. "Let her bring up the Princess issue. Instead, focus on letting her know about her family. Don't call her down to the planet again, meet her on her turf. I'm sure that you will be able to visit the Enterprise, and perhaps spend the night and some time with your heir."

Victoria looked up from her tea. "Perhaps you're right, Aunt Clarrissa," she said, her eye catching on the shrouded panting again. "I'm curious, why is that painting covered?"

"Nozomi, if you'd uncover the portrait?" the Duchess said. The young girl put down her paints and walked over. She pulled off the black cloth, revealing the portrait of George IV. "Nozomi considers it complete, even though it's not finished, and I agree with her. I'm afraid that the wounds were just too great for me to look at it constantly, however. I've now outlived all my brothers, and all of them have met tragic ends."

Victoria looked at the painting of her grandfather closely. It was rather well done, capturing the humor in his eyes, the boyish charm that never quite disappeared from him with age. She liked the way it depicted him. It was much better than the somber portraits she had grew up with.

"The King commissioned it a few months ago," the Duchess said. "I think Nozomi did rather well." Victoria nodded. "It's a shame to cover it up. Nozomi, leave it uncovered. I shall get used to my grief. It is no use hiding all reminders. I tried that with Richard, when that man shot him and all his daughters. It didn't work." The Duchess picked up her tea again. "I was thinking that we might use the portrait for the funeral. There won't be any bodies to inter, of course, but we should have one in a few weeks for him and all those who died."

"I agree," Victoria said. The tea wasn't as hot as she liked it anymore. "Would you like to take on organizing that? I'm afraid that I don't have the time to do it justice, and we're missing a lot of the usual organizations that would handle that sort of thing."

"I shall do my best," the Duchess said, picking back up her tea. "Can you pass along something to Billy?" Victoria had to think for a minute to remember that the Duchess still called the Prime Minister his childhood nickname. She nodded. "My illustrious Party Leader intends to call for a vote of no confidence as soon as the Basques chose their new MPs." The tone of disgust was clearly evident. "Ely seems to think that with them he can wrestle control of the government from Billy. Now is quite simply not the time."

"I'll warn Bill," Victoria said, putting her tea down again. The sun was now low on the horizon. She stood up. "I better get back to the Retreat, your grace. I have a lot of work to do."

"Understood, your majesty," the Duchess said, standing. The butler was already at the door. "Raequan, please show her majesty to her vehicle. Victoria, it was nice to see you. Don't be a stranger."

"I won't, Aunt Clarrissa," Victoria said, before hugging her Great Aunt. "Thank you for your time." With that she exited the Solarium. She felt a lot better leaving from there than she had before she arrived.

...

Queen Victoria of Essex was very glad for the Enterprise's internal direction system. She had no doubt that the ship was well laid-out but it had a maddening sameness to the corridors, but she could make no sense to it. According to the computer, she had one more turn to make before she arrived at Sickbay. She had intended to visit Marrissa first, but Commander Riker had informed her that Marrissa was on duty.

Commander Riker had told her what Marrissa's duties were as Chief of Security. It amazed Victoria that such a young girl was trusted with such responsibility. The Enterprise apparently wasn't yet up to its full compliment, and it's mix of officers was heavily weighted to Engineering like most ships still undergoing shakedown. Still, all those crewmen and the general responsibility for the security of an entire starship was a bit much for a girl almost fourteen. She wondered how the girl had made full Lieutenant. She'd have to ask someone.

The door up ahead had a caduceus on it, so she turned into it. It opened revealing Sickbay. The room was filled with the most critical of cases. Every bed had someone in it. There were soft beeping noises punctuated by a irregular loud alarm.

"Twelve ccs of analeptic!" a strong woman's voice said. "Damn it, I'm not going to let all this go to waste. Breathe, damn it!" A quick scan of sickbay located the voice. It was coming from an auburn-haired doctor who was part of a group of three medics surrounding the bed. Victoria breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the patient didn't look like Hilda. "There, cauterize that, Selar."

"Pulse rate is stabilized, Doctor," an Asian medic said. Victoria looked at the foot of the bed, and spotted a familiar blonde sitting in an old-fashioned wheel chair. Hilda's fist was pressed against her lips as tears grew in the corner of her eyes. "She's beginning to participate in respiration again."

"Thank you Nyoko," the Doctor said, surveying the girl below her. "Selar, put a dermal regenerator on that side, and I want this girl turned over every hour. I don't like the way she's healing at the moment. Keep her on assisted respiration, and increase her oxygen." Then the Doctor turned to Hilda. "Your friend is on her way to recovery again, thanks to you, Hilda."

"Will Greta be okay, Doctor Picard?" Hilda asked, a note of worry causing her voice to catch. Victoria stepped up beside the girl.

"I won't lie to you, Hilda," the Doctor said. "We'll do our best, but a lot of it's up to her." Then the Doctor looked up to Victoria. The Doctor's quick examination of Victoria felt like she was getting her own check up without the need of any instruments. "And you are?"

"Queen Victoria," Victoria said, meeting the Doctor's eyes. "I came to see my cousin Hilda, here. I understand that she's been under your care."

"Doctor Hyshita has been her primary physician," the Doctor said, gesturing towards the Asian doctor. "But I've checked over her a few times. I'm Doctor Beverly Picard, Chief Medical Officer."

"Any relation to the Captain?" Victoria asked. She was curious. Even if the Doctor wasn't related she might be able to give her some insight as to Marrissa's response to learning that she was heir to the throne.

"I'm his wife," Doctor Picard said. "Your heir, Marrissa, is my step-daughter." She was neatly cleaning and putting away her instruments as she talked. Hilda had moved closer to the bed and was staring at her best friend.

"I suppose that you know her pretty well, then?" Victoria asked. She hadn't expected to run across Marrissa's step-mother.

"Fairly well," Doctor Picard said, her instruments snapping into place. "I assume you want to know why I think she ran from you?" Victoria nodded. "Two years ago, Marrissa lost her family. She's spent the last couple years building a new one, and a new home and place for herself. Now your family comes back into her life, just when she's finally got a father and a mother again. She sees princesses as girls trapped in ivory towers, which means she'll be pulled away from her family again. I'm not surprised she's scared."

Victoria nodded again. She hadn't considered it from that angle. The estrangement of Prince George hadn't even let Marrissa know her family, much less the family tradition of not sitting around waiting for the throne. It was true that the last four monarchs hadn't gotten into business on their own, but they'd all become King before they were of age.

During Victoria's musing, the Doctor had moved off, so Victoria moved to kneel by Lady Hilda. The girl was staring at her best friend. As Victoria looked down, she realized for the first time that the tomboy was missing her legs. "Are you okay, Hilda?" she asked.

"I'm better that Greta," Hilda said, avoiding the issue. "She's got to survive. She's just got to." The girl was on the edge of tears. Her lower body was strapped into the chair, and her hands were folded in front of her mouth. Her stomach growled.

Victoria placed her arm around Hilda's shoulders, attempting to project comfort to the girl. It was a gesture of long practice, for visiting the sick and injured was a long tradition of the Royal Line from which Victoria was descended. "I'm sure she will," Victoria said softly. Hilda sniffled and wiped her eyes. Her stomach growled again. "I think you at least need something to eat. Doctor, where can we go to eat?"

The Asian doctor who was checking up on the next patient over from Greta responded, "We've set up an extra mess down the corridor to the left. It's the second hatch on the right. Lady Hilda, I don't want you back in here until you've had at least two platefuls. You're doing no one any good when you don't eat."

Hilda nodded her acceptance, and put her hands on her wheelchair's large wheels. "Okay. I know where that is," she said, as she turned the chair around and headed for the door. "Coming Tory?"

"You know how much I hate that nickname, don't you?" Victoria said with a rueful smile. "I wonder I can discourage it by royal proclamation." She fell in behind Hilda as the young girl wheeled herself out of the room.

"Clara said you'd say that," Hilda said, with just a bit of a smile in her voice. "And I'm not stopping using it."

Another young voice came from behind her. "Neither am I. Someone has to keep Queen Toady Tory and Prime Minister Billy Bob in line." The Queen turned around to spot the source of the voice. It was a younger girl than Marrissa in the same Star Fleet Uniform with Lieutenant junior grade pips on. Her black hair was held back with a single braid. Somehow Lieutenant Clara Sutter, Princess of Essex, managed to look much older in her uniform. "Heading for lunch, Hilda?"

"Yes," Hilda said, as Clara moved to walk alongside her. Victoria smiled as Hilda shook her head at Clara's unspoken offer to push. Victoria liked the way the two were talking to each other, even if it seemed to be at her expense. "It looks like we're getting Queenly company, though"

"Well, if you don't mind my company," Victoria said, as the door to the makeshift mess came into view. "I'd really like to spend some time with the family I have left." Until the words escaped her mouth she hadn't realized how true that was. She missed her three brothers and five sisters. Having been the oldest by almost eight years, Victoria often didn't feel like she was really a part of the rest of her immediate family. Her next oldest sister Elizabeta was Hilda's age, and the two had looked a lot a like. Christina had been grounded, so she couldn't go with Hilda to Greta's. If she had, perhaps she'd be still alive. Tears started going down Victoria's cheeks, again.

Her focus was blurred as the tears overtook her for the first time since the day she'd found out she was Queen. Clara's arm slid behind Victoria, guiding her through the door to a seat. "We don't mind, Victoria," Clara said, sitting beside her. "Family should stick together in times like this." The tears refused to stop flowing. She was supposed to be strong. She was the Queen. The load of the planet pushed down on her shoulders as the grief of her loss flowed down her cheeks. Minutes passed by as she tried to bring her tears under control.

Clara handed Victoria a cloth napkin to wipe her eyes of the tears as on of the Enterprise's makeshift messes came into focus. The room was obviously not quite finished, still having marks indicating where things were to be installed. The hastily positioned tables were placed orderly though the large trapezoidal shaped room, with a collection of mismatched chairs scattered around the room. Several nuns had just taken a seat around the closest table. Their heads were bowed as the oldest began to say the blessing. Victoria bowed her head as well.

"Bless us oh Lord, and those for whom we care for. Grant peace to all who pass through our care, either to return to their homes or to your side. Bless these, thy gifts for which we are about to receive, through Christ our Lord, Amen," the sister said. The other nuns and Victoria replied to the prayer with a soft "Amen."

"Can I get you something, Ladies?" Victoria looked up to discover a young Crewman standing at the end of the table. "Or would the Lieutenant prefer to handle it herself?"

"If you're offering, I'm not turning your help down this time," Clara replied, standing up. "Just so you understand it's help, not taking over. Victoria, this is Crewman Hillary Haxton. He's the unfortunate soul who gets to follow me around all day in Engineering. Hill, this is her majesty Queen Victoria of Essex, my cousin, and Lady Hilda, also my cousin."

"Majesty?" the young man said with a stammer and a blush. The man couldn't be even as old as Victoria. The crew of the Enterprise seemed to be quite young to the Queen. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pardon Hill," Clara said, moving around the end of the table. "He's fresh out of the Training School. Same as usual, Hilda?"

"Yes, Clara," Hilda replied. Victoria had barely noticed that Hilda had pushed a couple chairs aside to take a place to Victoria's right at the table. "I bet Tory wants spaghetti." She had just finished wiping her own tears away.

"No thank you," Victoria said. Her accidents with spaghetti and meatballs were well known around the palace. She had no intention of reviving them, much less extending them to Star Fleet. "Rice and chicken breast, please, Clara."

"Okay, Hill, I need your hands for this one," Clara said, as they moved off. "Try not put them through the back of the replicator this time."

As they moved off towards the replicator, Victoria surveyed the room. Her impressions about the room's makeshift unfinished nature were confirmed by the exposed conduit and partially installed carpet. The room seemed to be filled with mostly medical personnel, including the nuns from the Sisters of Mercy. It was obvious that there was no set schedule for most of them as there was a constant flow to the replicators and in and out of the room.

Victoria's eyes looked towards the door again. It opened revealing a young girl in uniform. Her blond hair was in a pony tail, just like it had been the last time Victoria had seen her. Princess Marrissa had just stumbled upon her Queen.

...

Lieutenant Marrissa Picard's day had gone rather well, if you discounted breakfast. Her command was actually preforming rather well for a change. There was some satisfaction in Security's step today. Everyone seemed to have caught up with their sleep following the long shifts put in during the search and rescue operations. The Captain had issued a general commendation for all involved in the operations. Several Security Officers had also gotten mentioned by name, and Marrissa had been delighted to witness a few reading the commendation and discovering their name in it.

She personally had submitted six members of Security for specific medals relating to their actions reported to her. It was nice to finally have a department that was showing that it could do its duty. Marrissa had just left the Bridge for lunch. It was a very good day for her, she'd almost forgotten about her royal problem.

Marrissa had decided to eat in one of the temporary messes near Sickbay. She was entitled to use the Officer's Mess, or she could have just gone home to the Picard Family Quarters. Neither was appealing to her at the moment. The Captain wouldn't bring up any family discipline on the Bridge. Dad had managed to make that separation early on, but the Officer's Mess was fair ground, to say nothing of the Family Quarters. She'd not put up her empty breakfast tray, nor cleaned her room in quite some time. Her bed was definitely not made. Marrissa knew that led to most unpleasant conversations with her Dad. He liked everything neat, and woe to the daughter who failed to toe the line on that issue.

The door to the mess parted for Marrissa to enter. She immediately began scanning the room, looking for Clara. She had been eating in the mess for the past few days with her cousin Hilda. Marrissa had eaten with them once before.

Her eyes moved passed a table full of nuns, and then locked on an unexpected presence. She recognized the long blond hair and the woolen red blouse. Her amethyst eyes locked with the other's sapphire pools. They bored into her soul. Her hands felt sweaty and she trembled. It was the Queen. The woman who wanted to take her away from the Enterprise, separate her from the home and family that she'd built. Marrissa shook with sudden fear, the confident stare of the Queen draining her confidence, her comfort, her shell, away from her.

Marrissa couldn't meet the stare anymore. She tore herself away, barely dodging people as she fled from the room. Tears started pooling in her eyes again as she beat a retreat all the way back to her quarters.

...

Lieutenant junior grade Daniel Sutter, Prince of Essex, was very tired when he finally got off shift. He'd volunteered to do a double shift, after the officer who had been in command of Impulse Engineering got sick. Lieutenant Gnarish had apparently gotten exposed to something during the search and rescue operations on Essex and had a delayed allergic reaction. So Daniel had leapt at the chance to actually spend a shift in command of the second most important Engineering area on the ship. It was an oppertuntitity that he'd only had once had arrived on the Enterprise-D a couple years before.

His neck ached from the positions he'd had it in while checking on the posts in Impulse Engineering. Daniel reached up and rubbed his neck to ease the pain. His wrist rested against the two pips of his rank, as he massaged out the pain. He smiled, as the cool metal brought back the memories of that day that he'd found out about his promotion after seven long years as Ensign. He'd been surprised at the time that he'd finally got his promotion in the post mortem promotions for the Enterprise-D.

His surprise had given way to shock when he'd spotted his own daughter's name right above his own in the alphabetical listings. Daniel had to wonder what had gotten into the Admiralty to approve Clara's promotion. He believed that she had the makings of a really fine engineer someday. It was joy to see her active mind wrap itself around a problem and come up with a solution. She didn't know all the standard solutions, like Daniel did, so Clara came about her solutions uniquely. Daniel thought his daughter had an instinctive sense of Engineering. Some of his colleagues felt otherwise, but at least on the old Enterprise-D her position was respected, having been first filled by Wesley Crusher, and then a succession of similar young geniuses ending with Clara.

He wondered if Clara realized just how rare her position was sometimes. She was the youngest person ever to be granted the Acting-Ensign's rank, and seemed to take Engineering's acceptance for granted. Daniel was actually surprised that Clara hadn't run into the same problems as her best friend Marrissa had. It wasn't until he saw them eating lunch together one day that he realized why.

Marrissa was short, and she had only slight breasts, so far. Clara, on the other hand was four inches taller than Marrissa, even though she was a year and a half younger. His daughter was also much more developed, and wore her hair in much more adult like styles than Marrissa's pony tail. His little girl was growing up. Daniel figured that it wouldn't be much longer before his daughter started dating, if she could find a boy her age to date. The new Enterprise lacked any males under eighteen. In fact the children on the Enterprise-E could be named on one hand; Marrissa, T'Luv, Shayna, and his daughter.

Daniel had almost passed his temporary quarters during his musing, causing him to have to make a sharp turn towards the door. The sharp turn probably saved his life. He suddenly felt a pain on his left side, as a cut opened up on his left side. Pain shot through his body and his eyes watered. He turned toward the source of the sword, the blood loss already causing his vision to swim.

Pain threatened to overwhelm him as he turned. He knew that the next blow would be the end of him. Daniel's opponent was in a Star Fleet Uniform, with a sword raised, just beginning to come down again. He'd never seen the dark haired man, so with the mustard colored mock turtleneck he had to be from Security. The sword gleamed as it came down, its tip marred with Daniel's blood. Daniel stood there, trapped by the pain and shock as the sword descended towards him. Its wielder's smile filled his vision as the sword closed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Lieutenant Marrissa Picard had somehow managed to avoid her father since she had gotten off duty. She couldn't avoid him much longer. She had sword lessons with him ever fourth day. A well-equipped swordsmanship training area had been set up by the Captain's orders in a long room to the starboard of Impulse Engineering. However the sword locker destined for the room hadn't been installed yet, so she was carrying her personal practice saber from the armory. She had also decided to take the long way around, as she didn't really want to hear what her father had to say about events that morning.

As she turned into another corridor, just past the Security Team Room, she spied the back of one of her security guards. He had a sword drawn, and was about to bring it down on her friend Clara's father. "Marrissa to Security. Attempted Murder in progress on deck eight section seventeen," she said, her other hand drew her phaser. She saw the sword impact Lieutenant Daniel Sutter on his left side, as he'd twisted just enough to avoid an immediately fatal blow. She fired.

The feeble beam from the phaser did nothing, even though it read fully charged. The swordsman turned, and she attempted to fire again. Nothing. His head turned towards her slightly and Marrissa recognized him. It was Crewman Simmons. She dropped the useless phaser Marrissa drew her sword, and charged, with a cry of "drop your sword, now!" It was the only thing she felt she could do as she saw the sword continue its descent towards the frozen Lieutenant Sutter. As she charged she wished he would escape into his quarters.

Simmons turned to face Marrissa's on rushing charge, his sword making another deadly cut across Lieutenant Sutter's chest. Blood was flowing from both cuts. Their swords met with a clash, her dulled sword turning his sharpened instrument from slashing across her body. The momentum of her charge pushed Simmons back a step but he met her with a firm stance.

"Marrissa to Sickbay, medical emergency on deck eight section seventeen." Simmons sword clashed with Marrissa's again, as he attempted to get through her guard. He was aiming high on Marrissa, right for her neck, but Marrissa blocked well. She knew that Simmons wasn't going to back down, not with Lieutenant Sutter's bleeding wounds. Sutter collapsed behind their fight.

Marrissa blocked the next thrust, an attempted slash to her chest, as Simmons stepped into his attack. She had to give way a bit, to save herself. He took the step and pressed the attack, his sword moving expertly, seeking weaknesses in the young teen's form. This was not a formal duel, and Marrissa knew it. This was a battle for life. She drew on the little training she had gotten in such things when she'd been Alexander's sparring partner. Lieutenant Commander Worf had told her that she had to give it her all. There was no holding back when your enemy was going to kill you.

Simmon's sword found a way by Marrissa's guard for a moment, slicing across Marrissa's left shoulder. Pain filled Marrissa's mind as blood started to flow from it. Marrissa gritted her teeth and attempted to ignore it. She responded to parry and step into Simmons guard that had him take a step back, but soon Simmons was back on her. She could not damage him with her dull sword, but Simmons could with his sword. Marrissa hoped that the stand by team would be there soon. They were only a section away. They should have been there already.

Another thrust barely got through Marrissa's guard, skinning her right shoulder. She could not let up. Her sword blocked Simmon's with solid counter blows. She gave ground, but kept him engaged, even as she felt the blood and pain from her shoulders. Another slash escaped her blocking, hitting her left side. It was deeper, right at her waist, and she let out a gasp of pain as she stumbled. Simmons pressed in.

Suddenly a phaser beam shot by Marrissa's right side, impacting Simmons right above his heart. He collapsed into a heap, his sword falling from his grasp. Marrissa turned, expecting the three men of the Quick Response Team on duty.

There was just one man, Chief Nelson. His phaser was still at the ready. "Thank you Chief," Marrissa slurred, as she stumbled against the wall. He rushed to her side. She dropped her sword, using her sword arm to try to hold the wound above her left hip together. The medical team arrived on the scene from the other direction just as her sword hit the ground. The Doctor first went to Lieutenant Sutter who was sprawled out on the ground, his blood starting to pool at the side Marrissa could see.

"What happened here?" Chief Nelson asked. Marrissa could see the worry on Nelson's face. "Doctor, the Lieutenant is also injured."

"Phaser dead," Marrissa said, her face screwed in pain as her injuries made their presence known, now that the haze of battle was over. Each word was drawn out of her as if the breath would be her last. She suddenly spotted Clara standing at the door. Her friend's face was very pale, and expressionless. "Help?"

The medical technician approached Marrissa, a dermal regenerator already out of his kit, his eyes focused on the bleeding wound on her shoulder. "Please, lay down, Lieutenant," the tech ordered. Marrissa complied, accidentally, suddenly unable to stand, pain shooting through her left side as she dropped onto the floor of the corridor.

Chief Nelson had a severe expression on his face as he looked down at Marrissa. It reminded Marrissa of her father when she'd done something wrong. "I don't know what's going on, but I'll find out," he growled, as he picked up the phaser that Marrissa had discarded. He turned it towards the wall and attempted to fire it. It didn't fire, just like it hadn't for Marrissa.

She heard a hiss at her neck, informing her that the medical tech had injected something into her. Her vision closed as it put her to sleep. The last she saw was Chief Nelson standing up and starting to move away with a determined stride.

...

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat with his arms folded on the desk in front of him. Two reports laid on the desk, one from Chief Nelson and the other being the report from Sickbay. His eyes were not focused on either of them. Instead they looked out at the stars. The Nebula Class Starship Magdeburg was just within the view of the port in front of him, but he was not focused on it either. Instead his focus was on a young girl two decks below him in Sickbay.

The portside door to the Captain's quarters parted, admitting his new wife. He could see her reflection the port before she came into his actual vision. He didn't move, so intent was he in his thoughts. "I'm going to lock her in her room for the next decade," he said suddenly.

"Pardon, Jean-Luc?" his auburn-haired wife said, moving around to stand behind the Captain, so she could see what he was looking at.

"Marrissa," Jean-Luc said, sitting back in his chair. "I do not like it when my little girl nearly gets herself killed, especially when she does something stupid like take on a man fifty centimeters taller than her armed and intent on killing someone with a very sharp saber. Especially when the only weapon she has that she can use is a practice sword."

"I thought Marrissa always carried a phaser," Beverly said, gently placing her hands on Jean-Luc's shoulders. She seemed to be taking things a lot better than Jean-Luc was, he mused.

"Apparently someone in Security thought it would be a good idea to disable Marrissa's phaser," Jean-Luc said, sharply. Beverly responded by beginning to massage his shoulders. "So my daughter charged an armed man who was attempting to kill one of my better engineers with a practice sword, and now she's spending the night in your domain."

"She will be okay, Jean-Luc," Beverly said, leaning down to say it right in his ear, softly. "Not that I condone any action that results in a lacerated shoulder, and a cut around her hip that was almost deep enough to do an appendectomy. Lieutenant Daniel Sutter is much worse off, though. His ascending colon was cut completely open along its length and the second cut did significant damage to his liver. If he hadn't been transported directly to sickbay and the trauma team hadn't already been there, Clara would be an orphan right now. As it was, his heart stopped six times on the operating table."

"I read your report," Jean-Luc said, nearly moaning as his wife kneaded out the tension in his shoulder. "Lieutenant Sutter is lucky to be alive, I'm sure." There was silence for a while as Jean-Luc picked up the security report. He paged through it for a moment.

"There is something troubling you, Jean-Luc, and it isn't your perfectly reasonable desire to lock Marrissa in her room until she's thirty," Beverly said in a calm, clear voice. Jean-Luc admired her ability to keep that voice so soft and even, even when she was trying to coax out something from someone. She just kept up her kneading of his shoulders, calmly, as if she knew that Jean-Luc would respond to her.

"Marrissa is too young, undertrained, and too determined," he began, putting the report down. "She is in almost every way unprepared for the job she has, and yet ..." He trailed off, not sure how to express what he was feeling.

"And yet..." Beverly echoed after a moment, pausing her massage to sit and look directly into her husband's eyes.

Somehow Jean-Luc found the words. "I must admit that Marrissa is acting as I've expected of Chiefs of Security." He smiled ruefully. "I suppose I only have myself to blame. I have provided her too many stories of heroic action since I became her mentor."

Beverly's smile was much more amused than Jean-Luc's. "Perhaps," she said, enigmatically. Her eyes seemed to dance before him with that amusement.

"If she were Worf, or Tasha, I'd probably be writing up a commendation right now," Jean-Luc admitted. This kind of charging in to save others was just what he'd gotten from his two best Chiefs of Security. "Of course if they were involved, Simmons might not be available for questioning."

"Especially if it had been Worf," Beverly said. "He'd have left Simmons in pieces."

Jean-Luc nodded. He was thinking of doing that to Simmons himself. The crewman was in the Brig at the moment, awaiting court-martial. It was only Jean-Luc's sense of duty that was keeping him in one piece at the moment. Simmons had yet to speak since he'd revived. "I assume that he will survive."

"As it stands, yes." Beverly said, dropping back into a professional tone.

"I noticed that you didn't put a release time or a return to duty time for Marrissa," Jean-Luc said suddenly. It had been a rather glaring omission from the report, in his view

"Marrissa is already up and around, and I'm sure that Chief Nelson will be visiting her shortly," Beverly began. "I felt that I needed to see how long you wanted Marrissa to think about her injuries before she left Sickbay."

"Three days," Jean-Luc said. Beverly nodded. "And limit her visitors if possible." Jean-Luc wanted Marrissa to think about what she'd done. This was the first time his daughter had been seriously injured in the line of duty. He didn't want her going back on duty as if nothing had happened. "And I want a week of reports only duty. With the injuries she's got, I assume you can justify that much."

"I can," Beverly said, her left hand moving to rest on her belly. "She's a remarkably determined young girl who keeps herself very fit. I hope our daughter will at least fill those footsteps."

Jean-Luc had to agree with Beverly on Marrissa's physical fitness. The girl nearly met his first year Academy times in most intervals, and she was on her way to becoming a challenge with her swordplay. He could only hope that his first biological child would be as healthy. That brought up another very important point that he'd been avoiding. "Beverly, we really should tell Marrissa that she's going to be a big sister soon."

"I know, Jean-Luc, but I don't think now is the time," Beverly said with a barely detectable tone of distress. "Deanna is worried about Marrissa and her relationship with her family. We've got to provide her a steady home. Now is not the time to upset it. Not with her worried that she's going to be taken away."

"You know that I'd never let that happen," Jean-Luc replied. His brow furrowed at the thought that his daughter might think that. "I may not be happy that I have to keep her as Chief of Security, but she's family, and family should stay together."

"I know that, but does Marrissa?" Beverly said, before standing and departing for the bathroom and a long hot shower. Jean-Luc watched his wife go, wondering if Marrissa did know how much he cared for her.

...

Chief Nelson arrived in Sickbay about fifteen minutes after he'd delivered his report to the Captain. He noticed three Security Crewmen standing by Lieutenant Daniel Sutter's bed, in respectful vigil. They had been the on-duty quick response team. It was way after the end of their scheduled shift, yet they stood guarding the man who had nearly died on their watch, attentive as ever he'd seen.

The Lieutenant's bed was a good distance away from where the Lieutenants Sutter were, out of quiet conversation range. She was sitting up in the bed, her sheet carefully tucked under her, so it stayed up above her breasts. Her hair hung loosely over her bare shoulders, hiding the mark left from Crewman Simmons's first strike. She actually looked a bit older, without the pony tail and her lack of sleep.

Commander Riker was standing by her, discussing something. The First Officer looked rather grim. He hoped that something else hadn't gone wrong in the last couple hours. Chief Nelson didn't know how much more Security could stand. They'd been run ragged with all the search and rescue, then search and recovery operations. Now they had to deal with one of their own turning out to be an assassin. Since Marrissa was relieved due to injury, it was all falling more squarely his shoulders than ever.

"I understand, Marrissa," Riker was saying. "I'll personally make sure that Clara is well protected."

"Commander Riker, Lieutenant," Chief Nelson said as he came to stop in front of the bed. "I thought I better stop in to see how you're recovering."

Marrissa seemed to be constantly pulling up her blanket as she sat there. "I'm better than I was the last time I saw you," Marrissa said. Her voice was somewhat ragged and he could hear the tiredness in it. "The doctors have fused my wounds, but they still hurt, especially the cut near my hip."

"You look like you could use some sleep," Nelson commented, noting the dark circles around her eyes.

"I was trying to, but someone woke me," Marrissa said, her eyes firmly focused on Riker. Then she looked away, and down. "Not that I was sleeping very well."

"If it helps, I believe I have everything under control in security for the moment," Nelson said. The Lieutenant nodded, and seemed to relax just a bit. "Crewman Simmons is under suicide watch. The initial reports on the incident are almost ready. If Doctor Picard will allow, I'll send them by in the afternoon for your signature."

"She won't," Marrissa said, pulling the blanket back up again. "I think I'm going to be stuck here for a bit. She's certainly making sure I can't leave on my own initiative."

"It seems that with Marrissa's ruined uniform, the Doctor has not found the time to bring her any fresh clothes," Riker said, with definite twinkle in his eyes.

"Commander, you didn't have to tell him that I'm naked," Marrissa said, with a whining tone. She pulled up her blanket closer.

"I didn't, you did," Riker replied, with a definite smile now. "Right, Chief?"

"Far be it for me to disagree with a ranking officer," Nelson replied, with a smile. Marrissa had a slight grimace at his reply, but returned to her pasted on smile quickly, as Riker yawned.

"It's late, I should head for my quarters to turn in, Marrissa," Riker said, placing his hand lightly on Marrissa's uninjured shoulder. "If I don't, the Doctor might get on me for keeping you up."

"Agreed," Nelson said. "I'll try to stop by at least twice a day until the Doctor lets you out, Lieutenant." He watched Marrissa's nod of acknowledgment with a smile, as she settled down under her blanket, turning on her side. Then he turned to follow Commander Riker out.

As he passed those standing vigil over Lieutenant Sutter again. Nelson nodded his acknowledgment, and the three snapped to attention. He softly ordered them, "keep them all safe, crewmen," before exiting Sickbay. He'd have to provide those three with respectful relief. Their off duty assumption of a job that should have been on the regular duty roster was the first sign of improvement in the department he'd seen since the Lieutenant's predecessor had died.

...

Queen Victoria had finally managed to catch up with her heir. Aside from a few very brief mutual spottings of each other, she hadn't seen Marrissa since the young princess had run out the Mount Ararat Royal Retreat. The Queen had tried to talk to her several times since, but Marrissa's duties always seemed to interfere.

The Queen paused as she passed the bed of Prince Daniel. It had been almost a day since the Prince had been attacked. Two security men stood at the foot of the Prince's bed, in full dress uniform. The Queen saluted them, and the security men returned the salute with well-trained precision.

Marrissa was sitting up in her bed, adjusting her blanket so it stayed up above her breasts. It looked like the girl had gotten a good night's sleep, as there were no more circles under her eyes, like Princess Clara had described. Marrissa seemed to be a little bit bored, as she fidgeted. Victoria had chosen to wear one of her jumpsuits, a black and blue patterned one that was vaguely like those that used to be worn by Star Fleet's Medical personnel, on the advice of the Duchess. There was a chair already by Marrissa's bed, probably left there by a previous visitor.

Marrissa did not look towards the Queen until she slid into the chair. "Good Afternoon, Lieutenant. May I hope that you are recovering well from your recent injuries?" Victoria said. Marrissa's eyebrows moved together, causing a pair of lines to form above her nose. Then her expression turned into a frown.

"What are you doing here?" Marrissa said in a cold tone.

"I heard that you were injured defending our family, and I wanted to see if you were all right," Victoria said, trying to keep her tone warm, despite the glare that Marrissa was directing at her.

"I am most definitely not all right," Marrissa said, her cold tone raising up. "I've had to fight a man half again my height with a sword, because my phaser didn't work. That man, a member of my own department, skewered me in several places, cutting me in others, nearly killing my best friend's father." Her tone was angry now. "I've been confined to this Sickbay, where they don't seem to have any concern for my pain, apparently deciding that I need to feel the pain of the first time I've had serious injuries ... injuries that I wouldn't have gotten at all if someone hadn't messed up my equipment. And now you arrive, no doubt to reinforce your claim on my duty."

In the silence that followed, Victoria met Marrissa's stare, refusing to blink. For several minutes they kept their eyes locked, neither saying anything over the quiet beeps of Sickbay. The pulse of equipment and the soft barely audible enhancements of the injured's heartbeats filled the room. Even when Victoria finally broke the silence, she kept her eyes focused on Marrissa's. "I'm not going to enforce any claim on your duty. That's not the Essex way. The Royal Family does not impose any duty save that of the monarch itself, and you can always refuse that."

"Then how do you explain my father's exile," Marrissa responded, her tone back to ice cold. Her eyes remained focused on Victoria. "As I recall he left because he didn't want some Royal Duty."

"Your father taught us that lesson, again," Victoria admitted, keeping her self focused on Marrissa's amethyst eyes, a common trait among the royal line. "Duty is something that many of us hold dear, and something that your adopted father says you do as well. My father taught me that duty is a personal thing, and each person goes about it a different way. Some see it in government, some in public service, it depends on their goals in life. Our Great-Aunt Clarrissa sees it in her job as Chief Executive Officer and Ship Designer for Royal Essex Starcraft. My father saw it in his job as a lawyer and Juvenile Court Judge. I chose from an early age to follow in the footsteps of my ancestor Queen Asahime who spent her life doing charity works, even once she became Queen. There is no way I'll ever do it on her scale, but I intend to try. So, how do you see duty?"

Marrissa looked down at her hands, and away from the Queen. She took a deep breath, and seemed to be gathering her thoughts. "I've never thought much about duty. It's just something that I do. I do the best that I can do, and I don't intend to ever back down on that. I know I'm young, and really shouldn't be where I am now. A lot of people seem to hate my achievements, but I refuse to let them dictate my duty. Someday I want to be Captain of my own starship, maybe the Enterprise itself."

"That is a fine ambition, if you keep to your duty to Star Fleet and your ship," Victoria commented. She wanted to hear more from this girl to whom her planet might some day be entrusted. "Though it amazed me to see how far you have gotten at such age."

Marrissa's tone was cold as she replied, "Oh, perhaps you think like many that I am that of which was once said: An unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractic'd; happy in this, she is not yet so old but she may learn."

"Merchant of Venice, Act Three, Scene Two," Victoria cited. "But does not that go on to say: Happier than this, she is not bred so dull but she can learn. Happiest of all is her gentle spirit commits itself to yours to be directed as from her Lord, her governor, her king. Is not a description of a good officer of your seniority?"

"I've never heard it explained that way," Marrissa replied, her tone softening. "I've been in Star Fleet since a little after my twelfth birthday. Most of the time, I've been at the helm, a position that I handle very well. Smoothly guiding the ship is a challenge, especially with the gigantic Galaxy Class. The new Enterprise is much more responsive and easy to come to helm. The pilots at least grudgingly respect my abilities, and I liked working there, even when I ended up as the senior pilot somehow. Since I got stuck with the Chief of Security job by Admiral Decker, duty is all I have to cling to."

"Just how did you get stuck with that post?" Victoria asked. She hadn't been able to find out on her own, and there had to be a story behind one so young getting that job.

"A holodeck accident took out most of the officers in Security last month," Marrissa said. Her expression had tightened. "Within two days after the accident we didn't have a single officer left due to resignations and injuries in the department. The Captain asked Star Fleet Personnel to send us a new Security Chief and some officers, and it got passed up to Admiral Decker. She and Dad apparently were Academy rivals. She sent word back that we already had a qualified officer on board to take over security and saw no need to do anything more than confirm that officer in that position."

"And just how did you end up being qualified?" Victoria asked. It was nearly impossible to believe that the young girl before her was qualified to be an officer, much less Chief of Security.

"After the Enterprise-D crashed, I spent time on Earth near the Academy while Dad did some assignments for Star Fleet," Marrissa said, pulling up her blanket again. "He told me to take as many classes as I could while I was there. My first set he chose, but he was away when those finished, so I chose the next set. The Security section was one of my weaknesses, so I filled up my schedule with them, even taking the physical training course. It was very hard, and Dad wanted me to withdraw when he got back, but I passed. Apparently it was enough to make me qualified. I wish it wasn't."

"I see," Victoria said. It was obvious to her that Marrissa found her situation frustrating. She let the silence drag, as Marrissa toyed with the edge of her blanket. Victoria had thought that her heir was just a young girl playing dress up, now she wasn't so sure. She'd seen the tape, and no simple girl would have lasted five seconds with a dull sword. It was a good thing that she'd come along, given the injuries that Prince Daniel had incurred.

"Alyssa, I think I need another dose of adlibitum," a woman's voice said, loudly. Marrissa's head turned towards the door, and Victoria followed her gaze. An auburn haired woman in medical duty uniform had entered, Doctor Beverly Picard. An Asian nurse turned towards her. "This is worse than it was with Wesley."

"So you say, Doctor," the Asian nurse replied. "I knew you would need it, so there is a hypo waiting in your office. I assume those are Marrissa's clothes?" Doctor Picard was holding a bundle of blue and grey clothes.

"Yes, Alyssa," Doctor Picard said, handing them over to the nurse. "She'll be released later today. Give them to her shortly before then." Doctor Picard then entered her office. The nurse placed the clothes on top of an array of portable readouts and went on with her tasks.

Queen Victoria looked back at Marrissa. The young girl had a pensive look to her face. "Lieutenant?" Victoria said gently.

"Oh?" Marrissa said, distracted. "Where were we?"

"I was just going to explain that as a Princess your duties are as much or as little as you want them to be," Victoria said, hoping that Marrissa's distraction would let that fact slip in. "I'd like it if you'd attend the Royal Funeral for those that died in the impact, and perhaps the unveiling of your father's statue, but it is up to you. Everyone will understand, especially since you are a serving officer."

"My father's statue?" Marrissa said, focusing on the Queen again. Victoria could tell that she was curious by the sudden raising of her eyebrows.

"As Etxearen Erregela Jaun, even though he only served about a week, he was entitled to a statue in Queen Asahime Park," the Queen said. "The sculptor, Princess Mary of Sussex, just had informed us that it was finished the day before she and her staff were murdered at her bed and breakfast."

"Murdered?" Marrissa said. Victoria could see Marrissa's attention suddenly become focused. Her blanket slid down a bit as she turned to more fully face Victoria. "When did that happen?"

"The morning after the Impact," Victoria said. Marrissa's eyebrows furrowed. "Her son is missing."

"That makes three separate attacks on the Royal Family of Essex," Marrissa stated. "How did she die?"

"She was stabbed in the heart," Victoria replied. "Her three maids were shot with disrupters."

Marrissa thought for a moment. "Are the bodies still available for examination?" she asked. Victoria nodded in response. "Doctor Picard!"

The auburn haired doctor exited her office swiftly to Marrissa's call. "Yes, Marrissa?" It was obvious that she was recognizing Marrissa's urgent tone to Victoria.

"Victoria has just informed me that we've had another attack on the Essex Royal family, only this time three of the victims were hit with disrupters," Marrissa said in a very firm tone. Her blanket had slipped down a little more. "I want to know if you can determine after about three days what type of disrupter was used."

"Certainly," Doctor Picard said. "There are certain patterns of damage could determine that. Doctor Hyshita might be a better choice for it. As she specialized in forensic medicine, she's been known to accurately predict which finger was on the trigger."

"Victoria, can you arrange for Doctor Hyshita to see those bodies," Marrissa said, pulling up her blanket. "If I'm not mistaken, we've got a bigger problem than the asteroid impact."

...

Marrissa wished she could slam her door behind her when she entered her room. She hit the lock on the panel next to the door. One of the first things she had done when she became Chief of Security was to make sure that her father couldn't easily override the lock. She wanted complete privacy. She threw herself onto the still unmade bed, allowing herself one punch of her pillow in frustration before picking up her stress ball from her night stand.

She had made the head of her bed the foot in order so she could stare out at the stars through the window slanting above it. Now Marrissa took the foam stress ball and began bouncing it off the window. She did not need to spend another ten days off duty. Bounce, catch. At most she needed a couple to finish recovering from her wounds, having spent way too long in Sickbay as it was. Bounce, catch.

It seemed like everyone was treating her like fragile china. Bounce, catch. It wasn't just physically either. Bounce, catch. It galled her that she had to find out that she was going to be a big sister through a slip of a tongue. Bounce, catch. At least Queen Victoria seemed to be honest. Bounce, catch.

Marrissa tossed the stress ball aside, letting it land on her replica Belmont Stakes Trophy. Laying on her bed wasn't helping anything. She slid over to her desk and started to go over some of the documents that Queen Victoria had left her.

There was the family tree, which Marrissa looked at only briefly, and something called "A Brief History of Essex," which appeared to be quite misnamed. Then there were the pictures. The first envelope was labeled, as promised, "Embarrassing, for Marrissa's eyes only." Marrissa peeked in there briefly. The corridor chase was there, as was the much more embarrassing milk spill.

The next envelope was much bigger, and labeled "George, Earl Flores." Marrissa pulled out the first photo. It was labeled "On completion of Scholastica Cervantes." Her father stood in the center of a group of five obvious friends. All were wearing the same uniform, black pants, a white shirt with a gold and red tie, and scarlet lapel-less jacket, buttoned twice. Her father had a arm around the boys on either side of him, as they appeared to be walking side-by-side down a very old looking street. Her father's scar appeared to be quite fresh, still a scab. She let her tears fall, as she turned to the next picture.

It was labeled "Off-campus housing with Mendi." A younger version of her father stood next to a young girl, which Marrissa assumed was Mendi. The girl had long black hair and a much darker complexion than her father. They stood in a doorway, with stairs going up behind them. Above them across the top of the door read "1701-C Settlement Street." Marrissa had seen that address somewhere before, but wasn't sure where.

The third picture was labeled "View out back of my building," It showed a large bay beyond several rows of small flat topped buildings. The next was labeled "Better view out the back of my building." It was of a practically naked Mendi sunbathing. Marrissa turned to the next picture, quickly.

She spent almost an hour going through the pictures. Most of them seemed to be from his secondary schooling. He'd been Captain of his school's football team, and there were several nice action shots. There were lots of pictures of him and Mendi, who had obviously once been something special. Marrissa had to wonder what had happened to her. There were lots of pictures around something called Florestown in Naverre, Basque. She'd stopped briefly to find out where that was. It turned out to be the area of the Basque Capital where her father's flat.

Finished with the pictures, she turned back to the documents. The first was a list of what she had received on Essex when her father died, and a few bequests as a result of the latest disaster, which surprised her. Her father had left her the flat, and her Uncle Andrew had willed her the building it was in. Three of her aunts had left her pieces of jewelry, though one of them was noted as being lost in the impact. The other two necklaces had been elsewhere. They'd apparently been gifts to her aunts from her father.

Marrissa put the documents aside, with the pictures. There was no way she was going to survive more than a week locked up in her quarters just doing school work. She considered going back to tossing her stress ball again for a bit. It had only been two hours and she was already bored. It was certain that she wasn't going to be able to do anything out of the ordinary on board, the doctor would see to that.

Marrissa looked out of her window, seeing the crescent of one of Essex's moons out of the window. From the bright yellow, almost golden hue, she identified it as Pendragon. Marrissa had no idea why the Essexites had chosen that name, nor the name Mordred for the smaller, dimmer, and further orbiting one. It was something she'd have to find out. There was a lot about her father's home world that she didn't know. Perhaps now would be a good time to find out. It wasn't like she was really going to be able to do anything on the Enterprise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The breeze off the Bay of Aragon was cool and brisk. Queen Victoria felt it's presence on her cheeks as she stared out to sea. The triangular sails of the traditional fishing boats were full, as they headed into harbor with their morning catch. The tacking up the narrow bay to home port this early in the day could only mean a full catch. There would be good fresh fish on the table tonight, Victoria was sure. It was one of the real benefits of living in Navarre, fish, caught by nets and prepared the way they had been for millennia.

Despite it's position as capital of the Basque, Navarre still maintained a lot of the charm from it's pre-Basque life as the small fishing village of Florestown. If anything, the Basque had improved on the hamlet's strengths. Victoria's glaze swept back from the bay to the city. It was especially true between the Castle of Saint Leire and the bay. The streets were the same golden cream cobblestone, winding up the hill. Each flat-topped building was capped with a terrace, usually partially a garden. The buildings were all built to match the same stone as the street, for the most part, and none exceeded five stories.

The breeze brought with it the sound of children playing. As Victoria looked down towards the bottom of the castle's walls she could see a few children running through the streets, barefoot in pinafores and shorts. Victoria sighed and turned around. It had been a long time since she had been able to stop and play

Queen Victoria looked back at the private green next to the North Tower Gate of Saint Leire Castle. It was a nice day, the cool breeze coming off the bay was causing the tall blue-green trees to rustle softly. The dark stone tower rose up just high enough to cast a shadow over the statue placed on a temporary wooden base around which the Queen had been examining before she'd been informed that her heir was arriving.

She hoped to spend time with Marrissa, but given her schedule, it would be fleeting. As the Chief Executive of Essex following the loss of most of Parliament her duties were quite tiresome. Fortunately she'd been able to draw on the remains of her William's government as well as the Basque House of Bureaus which had been very generous with its time.

The soft whine of someone beaming in filled the air, and gold and silver sparkles preceded the appearance of a young girl between Victoria and the statue. She'd apparently decided not to arrive in uniform, but the pink and red jumpsuit she'd chosen was just as unflattering, and like her pony tail made her look much younger than she was. "Marrissa, I see you managed to escape on time," the Queen said, with a smile.

Marrissa returned the smile, with effort. "Yes, thanks to Clara," she said. "I don't think Dad knows exactly what he signed this morning though. Did you manage to make sure the Settlement Street Flat was ready?"

"I did, but before you go there, I have to ask you something," Victoria said somewhat warily. Marrissa's smile disappeared. "I know you don't want any royal duties, and I'm fine with that, but I really think there is one upcoming that I should at least offer to you."

"And why is that?" Marrissa said. The cold tone was back, and if possible it was even icier than before.

"It's a statue installation," Victoria said, her speech speeding up. "Turn around." Marrissa turned and looked up at the statue. It was three meter tall figure of a man, dressed in Star Fleet Dress Uniform. He had a scar on one cheek, and held his drawn sword out, resting against a shoulder.

Victoria couldn't see Marrissa's face, but she heard the sudden intake of breath and saw the shudder of her body. Marrissa reached up and wiped her face as she turned back around. "When is the installation?" she asked, in a firm voice.

"It's scheduled for noon in five days," Victoria said. "Bill wanted to push it back in light of recent events, but I said no. We'll also be having a memorial service for those who died three days from now in Saint Domingo de Guzman Catholic Church. The Pope will be officiating. You might want to attend that as well."

"Let the Captain know about the memorial service," Marrissa said, with a serious expression. "I brought my dress whites. I'm sure that he'll want most of the Command Crew to attend. The Captain of the Magdeburg probably will want to do likewise. Do I have to do a speech or anything for the installation?"

"It is traditional, but if you don't want to I'm sure that I can find someone else to do it," Victoria said, keeping her tone as non-committal as she could.

"No, he was my father," Marrissa said, sharply. "I should be able to say something. Anything else before I disappear?"

"Only a hope that you'll be careful," Victoria said, moving into hug her heir. Marrissa took it reluctantly but let the Queen do so. She broke the hug and looked directly into Marrissa's amethyst eyes. "I don't want to have to visit you while you're under medical care again."

"Trust me, Victoria, this is the safest thing I've done in nearly a month," Marrissa smiled seriously. "Right now I wouldn't say that the Enterprise is a safe place for the Essex Royal Family, at least until we're sure that Simmons was the only assassin on board. I've asked the Doctor to transfer Lady Hilda over to the Trinity. Clara and her father are under guard at the moment, but I'd like to get them off the Enterprise as well."

Victoria examined Marrissa's expression, unaccustomed to such seriousness from a girl her age, especially one whose choice in outfits knocked a good five years off her appearance. Marrissa met her look, and Victoria nodded. "Agreed. I will run interference for you with your father. I'll also see about securing more of the remaining heirs. We still don't know where Martin is."

"He'll turn up," Marrissa said, then suddenly her seriousness evaporated in seconds. "Now if you'll excuse me, your majesty, I've got to play vacant blonde on her own without a care for a couple days. Oh the fun of waking up without anything to do ... I've got to take shore leave more often."

"So I hear," Victoria said. "I'll try to stop by your flat later."

Marrissa turned towards the tower gate, and after picking up her duffle and adjusting it on her shoulder, skipped towards the gate and out of site. She rotated once, in her skip, saying "See you later," before passing through the gate and disappearing from Victoria's sight.

It was almost time for Victoria to return to work. She wished that she could take a similar carefree journey away, but duty called. The Queen turned back towards the looming mass of Saint Leire Castle, and strode off quickly.

...

The door to the Picard Quarters opened, and not a sound was heard from the inside. In the last two years, Jean-Luc knew that had become very unusual. Since he had adopted Marrissa his blessed solitude had been interrupted by the giggles and songs of a young girl. He had found that he rarely missed the solitude. Marrissa had filled his life in a way he hadn't expected. Throughout his decades as Commanding Officer of starships, he had always thought his life was filled by the never-predictable responsibilities of the role, but his personal life was never as full as it had been since he started a family. And now, another daughter would soon enter his life ... the Picard Family Quarters was definitely not the bachelor quarters of the Stargazer and Enterprise-D. Now, however, the room was as quiet as it had been back on the Stargazer.

With Marrissa not in a good mood, and knowing exactly who to blame, Jean-Luc had at the very least expected her to be cuing that ridiculous "Gotta Keep the Hair" song from "A Girl From Gaza" to his arrival. It was one of the more obvious ways that Jean-Luc's teenage daughter had taken to showing her displeasure. Fortunately, its playing usually washed the displeasure out of Marrissa's mind as well as annoying Jean-Luc.

But this time there was no noise, there was just a PADD, out of place on the dining table. A PADD in a place that usually indicated that Marrissa was out somewhere and expected to be back outside the normal expectations, something that she hadn't done since she'd became Chief of Security. That job made normal expectations abnormal. Jean-Luc picked up the PADD and read it.

"Dad - I signed up for shore leave per Counselor Troi's advice. Commander Riker approved it, so I'll see you in a week. Messages via Royal Channels will get to me. Love, Marrissa."

This was the first time he'd heard that Marrissa should take shore leave. Counselor Troi had advised him to find a time where Marrissa could get a decent stretch of uninterrupted time off, though. That's why he'd asked his wife to give Marrissa an extended recovery time. He had thought that he would have been informed by either the Counselor or Commander Riker about something like this.

"Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, please report to the Captain's Quarters," he ordered, before entering Marrissa's room. It appeared that she'd made her bed and straightened up since the last time he'd been in it. The bed even had the proper San Francisco corners to it. There was a stack of PADDs nearly placed in one corner of her desk up against the wall, and for a change there was a new set of pictures on her desk. The one with the three of them at the wedding was still there, but now their was a picture of her biological parents again, apparently at their wedding. Jean-Luc recognized the celebrant and the church. It appeared that they had gotten married while still at the Academy, and he could see the reason by just looking at Marrissa's late mother. Marrissa's stress ball was in front of the last picture, which used to be the picture from the field trip of some years back, but apparently had just been replaced by a picture of her and Jay, in their dress whites.

The door chime rang, as Jean-Luc took a seat in the lone chair in Marrissa's room. "Come." From the seat Jean-Luc could see directly out to the port-side door to the quarters. Commander Riker entered first, followed by Counselor Troi. They spotted Jean-Luc's position quickly and joined him in the room.

"Commander, Counselor, I came home tonight fully expecting this room to be inhabited by a young girl," Jean-Luc said, as they stood against the wall. "This young girl probably wouldn't be in the best of moods, given her current medical restrictions, so I expected it to be a messy room, and I fully expected her stress ball to bounce off my head while some song referencing hair would be played in the background. Imagine my surprise when responsibility found it neat and empty, along with a note that said that you, Counselor, had suggested shore leave, and that you, Commander, had approved it, two events that I had no idea about. Would you care to explain where my daughter is, Counselor?"

"I'm unaware of Marrissa's specific plans, but I do believe she's probably somewhere in Navarre," Counselor Troi said, in her unwavering voice. Jean-Luc had expected that Troi would at least know where Marrissa was, and admit that even if she kept Marrissa's actual location from him due to doctor-patient privilege. "I recommended that she use any shore leave she got to play the girl without a care in the world."

"I see, and did you recommend that this thirteen-year-old girl go down to this planet without any adult supervision?" Jean-Luc asked, locking his eyes with the ship's counselor.

"No, I did no, though I did recommend that she not take the shore leave with you," Troi replied. "I had hoped that she would take Beverly as there is a real need for some bonding time between the two."

"I see," Jean-Luc said. He wondered just why it wasn't a good idea for his daughter to take shore leave with him, but pushed that thought aside for the moment. "And Commander, why didn't you tell me that my daughter had asked for shore leave?"

"Captain, remember that Marrissa's position is somewhat unique," Commander Riker began. Jean-Luc had to agree with that point, so he nodded. "She is not yet of age, by the usual means of measurement, but since she is a commissioned officer, Star Fleet has to treat her as being so in it's matters. Shore leave is one of those matters. Deanna had recommended that Marrissa take shore leave, and you had ordered that those that put in long hours during the search and rescue phase be given priority on the shore leave lists. It was my judgement that strictly in the matter of her eligibility for shore leave she was deserving and granted it. Respectfully, Captain, I am not responsible for what your daughter does off shift."

Jean-Luc paused before he responded. Commander Riker had cut right to the point. "I see, Commander," Jean-Luc responded. "And just what responsibility do you have?" Jean-Luc leaned forward just a bit as he looked at his First Officer.

"As we discussed when you adopted her, it is my duty to see that Marrissa is trained to do her job to the best of her abilities, to handle all matters relating to Star Fleet discipline related to her, and any other Star Fleet matter," Riker said, standing firm his arms crossed in front of him. "My responsibility to her discipline ends once she's off duty and out of Star Fleet matters. Once I granted her shore leave, it became your job to set the rules for how she spends it."

"I see, Commander," Jean-Luc said, allowing his voice to drop into freezing tones. "If that is your judgement, it is perhaps a good thing that you've turned down so many Captaincies. I would hope that you would have considered the fact that since we have arrived at Essex, Marrissa has lost over three dozen of her closest relatives." Riker's arms dropped to his side. "She's been injured trying to save one, and the sister of Lieutenant Sutter was murdered." Riker's face seemed to be getting a bit off color. "You've just let the next in line to rule this planet, my daughter, run off to who knows where, on a planet where it appears that someone is after the whole Royal Family, which she is apart of. Thank you, Commander."

"I did require that she keep her communicator on," Riker offered, his hands behind his back as he had assumed a formal at ease position. "We could find her and beam her back."

Jean-Luc exchanged a glance with the Counselor. While it was true that Marrissa was highly at risk, it was also true that she was at risk on the job. "Counselor, I suppose that you wouldn't recommend that I go after her myself," Jean-Luc said. Troi shook her head. "Beverly is needed on the Enterprise at the moment, but it shouldn't take that long for her to retrieve my wayward daughter."

"Captain, perhaps you should consider letting Marrissa stay on planet, with some restrictions, of course," Troi said in her usual calm tone. It had never annoyed Jean-Luc before.

"Absolutely not," Jean-Luc said, firmly. "It is simply too risky."

"Captain, before I recommended that Marrissa take shore leave, I looked into her status on planet," Troi said, as Jean-Luc focused his glare on her. "Her name and position is not locally known information. Marrissa Flores would be unknown to anyone down there outside a few remaining members of the Queen's family and the Prime Minister. Even less would know her as Marrissa Picard. If recent events are indicative of a plot against the Royal Family of Essex, she would be safer in that anonymity on the planet than she would be doing her duties as Chief of Security on the Enterprise."

Jean-Luc considered the point for a moment. It was true that being Chief of Security was a risky job, one that he really wished he could have kept Marrissa out of, and Marrissa had shown an annoying tendency to consider herself always on duty. Her recent injury had only underscored that. Still, he had other concerns to voice. "And what if the Prime Minister is involved in the plot? We have no reason to believe that this isn't a domestic plot until more evidence is gathered. Meanwhile you've given my daughter a carte blanche to go on vacation without the supervision of myself or her stepmother."

"The Prime Minister is deeply in love with the Queen, I hardly think he would be involved," Troi replied. "As for Marrissa's permission issues, it is quite clear that though she got her permission from the ship's authorities, she neglected to get permission from her parents. While I wouldn't recommend that she be pulled back to the Enterprise, she does need some supervision, and since your and Beverly's duties do not permit you to do so at this time, I am willing to provide that."

"Thank you, Counselor," Jean-Luc said, with relief. "Keep me updated on how Marrissa is doing. Number One, in the future, however, I would appreciate a notification that my daughter is intending on leaving the ship. I suggest you consider the same for Ms. Sutter and her father." Jean-Luc doubted that Clara would ask for shore leave, given her father's current condition, but Daniel Sutter had many of the same challenges dealing with his daughter as Jean-Luc had with his. "Perhaps it is a good thing that Marrissa is taking time away from the ship. I must admit to worrying about the stress that Marrissa has put herself under in the last few weeks."

"That is quite understandable, Captain," Counselor Troi said. "When Marrissa returns, I will of course reevaluate her mental state. I expect that there will be some improvement, but to be honest, I do not believe that her current post is good for her mental health."

...

Marrissa had started the steady jog in the late evening of Navarre because that was what she normally did after her shift, a ten kilometer run. She was two kilometers in, counting the cadence of her footfalls off the cobblestone streets to determine her pace, before she started to wonder why she was doing it. Jogging was something she started in order to fit for her job as chief of Security.

Marrissa let her mind drift as she jogged through the streets of Navarre's Florestown district. She had followed Settlement Street to Don Diego Garcia Street, and now was on her way down that street to a park she'd seen on the map. As she altered her stride to ascend a hill, she reflected on what she'd found when she arrived at her father's flat at 1701-C Settlement Street.

The flat had been kept clean, but in many ways it was just like her father had left it years before. The entry room was apparently an office with a big roll top desk. Marrissa had been curious enough to open it, discovering her father's seal as Etxearen Erregela Jaun still laying on top of a long-dried ink pad. The kitchen was the next room she'd checked out, finding it well stocked, as she'd been promised. Then she'd looked in at the three bedrooms.

Marrissa had decided to sleep in the guest bedroom. Sleeping in her Dad's bedroom was just too strange, and behind the door with the "Mendi" sign was practically a shrine, clean, but obviously left just like when Mendi had left, many years ago. Victoria had assured her that no one was living in the flat, but that room somehow gave Marrissa the creeps.

Sounds of a ball being kicked hard from person to person brought Marrissa out of her drifting. She'd reached the entrance to the park. The sign read Kaihime Park, and advertized it's football field, bandstand, and contemplation glade. Marrissa turned toward the last, entering the cool shade of tall blue-green deciduous trees. She slowed to a walk down the cobblestone path. As she passed through a gate with a single kanji over its archway, the sounds from the rest of the park and the city beyond seemed to disappear, giving way to the soft trickle of water, the rustle of leaves, and the quiet chirping of birds.

The path opened up to a clearing. A large white rock cliff dominated it, with water trickling down it into a wide broad lipped pool. In the center of the pool, surrounded by mist, was a colored statue of a young woman bent down, her hands protectively around a young boy who had tears flowing down his cheeks. The young boy was pale and appeared to be trembling.

Marrissa came to a stop at the lip of the pool, in front of a transparent aluminum sign. In gold lettering it read, "Forgiveness is not just a divine providence, it is a necessary fact of living. - Princess Kaihime, 2249." Something about the place around her just breathed serenity. She let out a breath that she had not been aware that she had been holding. The next few minutes she spent letting her eyes follow the water down the cliff, the birds dipping their beaks into the water for a drink, and the golden fish swimming in the pool.

It wasn't until she heard the deep bells of the Cathedral of Saint Domingo de Guzman chime the seventh evening hour that she pulled herself from admiring the quiet park's glade. It wasn't something she would find on starships. A bit of it could be made, and the holodeck could attempt to replicate the experience, but somehow there was nothing like listening real water trickle down real rocks, under the gentle rustle of nature's breeze through the trees.

Marrissa began to trace her route back to her flat on Settlement Street, passing back through the gate into the sounds of the city once again. She left behind only her tension and took only a renewed sense of peace.

...

Counselor Deanna Troi sat on a bench outside Senora Tavira's Clothiers. The door to the stairs that led up to Marrissa's flat was just a bit to her left. The door was locked in Marrissa's absence, which Troi had expected. It was fortunate that a bench was out in front of the building, as Troi didn't fancy standing however long it took Marrissa to return to her flat. Already the bells of the Cathedral had chimed for the seventh hour. Troi had been there since they had chimed thrice.

Troi hoped that this shore leave would help Marrissa. Arrival at Essex had brought many of Marrissa's unresolved issues to the surface. The loss of her parents almost two years ago was a wound that had mostly healed during the time, but it still effected Marrissa. The girl had been overjoyed when the Captain had married Beverly. Family was something that was precious to Marrissa, like many orphans. She clung to her family ties, and had even encouraged her adopted father to wed Beverly.

It was expected that such a girl, especially one that had never had a sibling, would have problems with a baby on the way. It hadn't helped when Marrissa learnt about it by overhearing Beverly ask for something for her morning sickness. Marrissa was quite aware of how long Beverly must have known about her pregnancy to be suffering from morning sickness. Troi had taught Sexual Education to the children on the Enterprise-D, including Marrissa, for years. She thought she had done a pretty good job at it. It came as no surprise to her that Marrissa figured out that the Doctor had been pregnant for at least a month, and known it, nor did it come as a surprise that Marrissa was upset about not being told.

When Marrissa had spoken to Troi about it, she'd been so upset that she'd cried. Since Marrissa had lost her parents, she'd rarely cried. Troi had long felt that it was bad that Marrissa didn't cry, a girl in her position needed to cry, to release stress sometime, somehow. It didn't have to, and probably shouldn't be, in public, but it should happen. Lately it wasn't.

The immediate stress had just been building, as her biological family and best friend's father had been attacked, as she herself had been injured defending that father, an injury that never should have happened. Long term, The stress had been mounting since Marrissa had come aboard the new Enterprise. It had been expected that Marrissa would continue in the same basic role as she had on the old Enterprise.

The Chief CONN Officer post was one that could easily be handled, and could be tailored to the officer in question. For someone whose development wasn't complete, it was the best possible post for her to be in, aside from granting her a leave of absence to mature. Troi knew that had been considered at one point, and put off in favor of a schedule of education, light training, and several family outings while the Enterprise was in it's shakedown period.

That had all been thrown out when Rear Admiral Gretchen Decker had decided that Marrissa would make the perfect Chief of Security. Troi could feel her anger rising as she thought about how many things had gone wrong as a result of that Admiral.

Troi had never condoned the decision that had given Marrissa her commission; she lived with it, though. Commander Riker had informed her that commissions, even Lieutenancies, had been granted to young boys Marrissa's age, during the Age of Sail on Earth. A Rear Admiral named Porter had been brought up as an example of a young successful command at no more that Marrissa's age when she had gotten command. It was an excuse, a way that the guilt of ending a young girl's childhood could be put off. It was a way to say, it's not quite so bad.

Still, it was under control until Decker had been put in charge of personnel for the Fleet Unit that the Enterprise belonged to. The Captain had warned the Command Staff that trouble might be coming. Decker was part of an old Fleet Family, part of the fourth generation of her family to serve, and the Captain was a first generation fleeter. He'd apparently showed her up at the Academy, then by becoming the first of their class to make Captain, and finally by getting the Enterprise, not once, but twice.

None of the crew had taken the Captain's warnings to heart until after the Enterprise-E's Security Leadership had been involved in the deadly holodeck accident. Decker had pulled every last officer in Security off the Enterprise, and then had the audacity to appoint Marrissa as Chief of Security. She didn't just appoint the girl, though ... no she also made it sound like it was the Captain's request. Then, after Marrissa had had the hardest week of her life in taking over an officer-less department way beyond her experience, Decker had showed up to visit.

Troi had seen the encounter between Decker and Marrissa in the ship's lounge. It was obvious that Decker had expected Marrissa to resign in frustration. What Troi hadn't expected was Decker's statement that she'd accept nothing less than Marrissa and her father's resignation from service aboard the Enterprise. That had steeled Marrissa's heart. Once the young lady had gotten permission to speak freely, she had told Vice Admiral Decker exactly what she intended to do with Decker's plans. It hadn't stopped Decker from throwing up more roadblocks in the Enterprise's path.

Every long-term leave request, which were routinely approved when endorsed properly, were denied. Transfer requests to join the Enterprise dried up overnight. Decker was quickly creating the atmosphere of a vessel under siege. Try as she might, Troi had yet to find a way to alleviate that stress. As long as Decker was over the Enterprise in some fashion, Troi suspect that her efforts would be futile, but that didn't mean that she intended to give up.

"Counselor?" Troi looked up to discover Marrissa standing in front of her. The girl was dressed in a pair of deep crimson shorts and a bright purple overly-tight halter top. It was clear that she had been jogging, judging from her sweating, for quite some time. Her expression was one of worry, and her thoughts were tinted with fear and expectations of punishment. "Dad sent you to come to get me, didn't he?"

"Your father sent me, but only to accompany you during your stay on planet," Troi responded, standing up and looking at Marrissa. The girl's recent growth spurt had made that less of an angle than before. The young girl's emotions rose as the fact that she wasn't going to be drug back to the Enterprise filtered into her brain. "The Captain will be having some words with you about your departure, but your shore-leave stands. Now, I understand that you are staying in your dad's old three bedroom flat?"

"Yes, it's on the third floor, 1701-C," Marrissa said. Troi smiled at the number, as Marrissa pulled a thin card out from under her tight crimson shorts, where it had been held against her hip by the elastic waist. "I know, it's amusing, that I can't seem to leave the registry behind." She walked up to a solid wood door, and put the card into a slot beside it, hitting 6-2-4-4-2. The door opened outward, causing Marrissa to jump back a bit before it revealed a long set of steps. She turned back and looked at Troi, and took a deep breath. "I guess that you're staying with me, so come on in."

Marrissa took the steps two at a time, ascending the steps, double time. Troi could feel some suspicion and just a hint of resentment as she followed Marrissa up the steps. From the tendrils of emotion that Troi was sensing, Marrissa had apparently enjoyed the eight hours she'd spent on planet thus far. There was some worry that it was coming to an end in her mind.

The door opened at the top of the stairs at Marrissa's approach. It was still open when Troi reached it. She passed through to the entry room beyond, which was dominated by a large roll-top desk. Marrissa had tossed the card key on top of the desk, and was rifling through her duffle-bag for something.

Troi took a moment to look over the place, as Marrissa continued to pull items out of her duffle. There was an archway to a larger room off on the left, which was filled with a couch and three overstuffed chairs. Off the large room was three bedrooms and a galley style kitchen, through which there appeared to be roof access. Troi returned to the entry room to find Marrissa pulling the last item out of her duffle.

"Did you forget something, Marrissa?" Troi asked, noting Marrissa's frustrated look.

"Yes, I forgot to pack a bra or any short-sleeve shirts," Marrissa said, beginning to stuff her clothes back into the duffle. "I'm going to roast all shore leave."

"I think you can safely go without a bra for now, Marrissa, and as for clothing in general, it is our good fortune that we are over a clothier's," Troi said, picking up Marrissa's dress uniform from where it had been tossed and folding it up neatly. "We can visit first thing tomorrow. Why did you bring the dress whites?"

Marrissa looked at the wrinkled uniform in Troi's hands. "Oops, I really shouldn't have tossed them into the duffle like that," Marrissa said, with just a hint of a tremble in her voice. "I want to go to Mass when I'm down here, and they're really the only appropriate clothes I have for that."

"Well, the white will be good for the tropical weather," Troi began. This was the first she'd heard of Marrissa attending Mass. She was aware that the girl professed to be Catholic, and had received first Eucharist and first Reconciliation before her parents had died, but hadn't really seen the girl practice her Catholicism. "I assume you've found the Mass schedule for the Cathedral in town?"

"The Cathedral of Saint Domingo de Guzman is too big, I like a smaller church," Marrissa said. She'd apparently already given the matter some thought. "Saint Ignatius of Loyola Catholic Church is three blocks over, halfway to Kaihime Park, and it's got a nice early Six AM Mass on Sunday, which is in two days. I didn't stop to see the inside, but it's not a really big building, and I kind of like the name. Saint Ignatius is a patron saint of soldiers and children. "

"I see," Troi said. She had to admit to herself that her knowledge of Catholic belief was rather lacking. She knew some basics of Christianity, but matters of the faith weren't something that tended to be brought up among the few Catholics that were on board the Enterprise. Some races and religions were tightly joined, like that of the Bajorans, and Troi was quite knowledgeable about those, but among humans in Star Fleet the connection was usually so slight as to be virtually non-existent. "I did not know you were so knowledgeable about Saints."

"Actually the sign out front of the church told me that," Marrissa smiled, putting more clothes back in the duffle. Her emotions seemed to be calming, taking on a reflective tone. "I really don't know much, but I know it was important to my parents at one time. You told me that I should take this time to find out where I came from."

"Yes you should," Troi said, as Marrissa put the last blouse in her duffle. "In that vein, I suggest that you take your father's old room. I'll take the guest room. Do you know why the other bedroom is labeled 'Mendi?'"

"I think it was Dad's roommate and girlfriend before he left Essex," Marrissa said, picking up the duffle and heading into the main room. "All I know is that she died before Dad left, because there is a picture of her grave in the packet of pictures that Victoria gave me. 'Beloved of Prince George' was on her tomb stone along with some other inscriptions."

"She must have been important to your father," Troi said as Marrissa headed towards her father's old room.

"Maybe," Marrissa replied, as she entered the bedroom. Troi headed to the guest room, as she kept track of Marrissa's emotions. The girl was some what wary of the room that Troi had directed her to use, but Troi thought it would be good for her, anyway.

...

Captain Jean-Luc Picard materialized outside The Rampant Lion. He shivered a bit as a burst of cold wind tore through the courtyard of the inn, causing the sign to squeak as it swung. Chief Nelson had asked him to come down for a personal report. Captain Picard had a great deal of respect for Nelson. He was the senior enlisted officer on board, and as such was the traditional liaison between the Captain and the enlisted. The Captain trusted him, which was why Nelson knew the whole story behind why Marrissa was Chief of Security. That trust had wavered when Marrissa had ended up in Sickbay following the Sutter Assassination Attempt, but Chief Nelson did know his job, and in truth was a better Chief of Security than many Commissioned Officers were, most especially his daughter.

"Captain, thanks for coming," Chief Nelson said, leading the Captain through a side door. "You might recall that the Queen asked us to investigate the murder of Princess Mary, using a loophole in Essex law."

Jean-Luc nodded. The use of Marrissa's status as heir to the throne to allow Star Fleet to take over the investigation was something he wasn't entirely comfortable with. The idea that the person overseeing any investigation received the position entirely due to right of birth was unacceptable to Jean-Luc. Marrissa certainly wasn't suited to deal with this kind of investigation, yet. Fortunately the Enterprise itself was, and with Marrissa off on shore leave, and the Queen's tacit acceptance, Jean-Luc was willing to lend his crew to at least secure the evidence until the planet had planetary policing staff enough to take over.

"Well, I brought Doctor Hyshita down to examine the crime scene and she's been finding some interesting pieces of data," Chief Nelson said as he opened the door to the foyer of the Inn.

A Japanese woman in Star Fleet Medical Uniform was busy scanning the area by the door, with the assistance of one of the younger Security Crewmen. "Crewman, what's the reading on the decay of particles in section sixty-two?" she said.

"One point three six seven," the Crewman said, as the Doctor turned back towards the entering Captain and Chief Nelson.

"Chief, Captain," the Doctor said, stowing the hand scanner from her medical tricorder. "It's about time you got here."

"Sorry about that, Doctor Hyshita," Chief Nelson said. "Tell the Captain what you've discovered."

The Doctor handed over her medical tricorder to the Engineer, and moved towards where the steps came down. "As you ordered, Chief, I examined the bodies of Princess Mary and her staff..." the doctor began.

"And her staff?" Jean-Luc interrupted. "I was under the impression that we were dealing with a single homicide here."

"No sir," Doctor Hyshita said. "Four women were killed in this room the day of impact. Three maids, dead of Romulan disrupter fire, and the Princess, who was killed with a bladed instrument, probably concealed inside a walking stick."

"Go ahead, set the scene for me," Jean-Luc ordered, staying in the doorway to the side room from which they entered.

"The three maids were found at the foot of the stairs," Doctor Hyshita said, who then pointed at three spots on the wall that seemed just a bit darker than the rest. "Those are the blast through burns. These disrupters seem to be new to the users, as they kept the fire on a bit longer than they should. We should consider ourselves lucky that they did, however, as its enabled me to determine that we're dealing with the new Korax Six disrupters from Negh'var. There were two disrupters used,."

"If I remember the technical bulletin on those, those disrupters were solely in the possession of the Tal Shiar," Jean-Luc said. It had been in one of the tactical bulletins that Marrissa had been going through a couple weeks ago, and found interesting enough to mention to the Captain. The Tal Shiar had apparently stolen the entire stock pile of the new weapons save a few prototypes from the Klingon developer.

"Until last month, Captain," Chief Nelson said. "It was a very stupid idea to give a secret intelligence agency distinctive weapons."

"Agreed, Chief, but the disrupters involved here were at least four months old," Doctor Hyshita said. "You can't even tell that they're this type until they've been fired at least fifty times."

Jean-Luc looked directly at Doctor Hyshita. "Tell me how Princess Mary died."

Doctor Hyshita beckoned them over, so they could see behind the counter. "Princess Mary was standing behind here," Doctor Hyshita said, pointing at a worn spot on the floor. "You can tell where she was accustomed to stand by the lack of floor wax in the area. Over on what would have been her right side, you can see a small black scuff mark. I've identified it as coming from a pair of military issue boots. One of the assailants stood on that side, with his disrupter pressed hard against Princess Mary's neck, just below the jaw, judging from the bruise on her jaw."

Doctor Hyshita then pointed to a couple spots of blood on the counter. "Princess Mary was stabbed from the front. The large spot is from where she first impacted the counter following the stabbing, the couple small spots are from the withdrawal of the weapon. From my analysis of the wound, I can say that it was a concealed spike, at fifteen centimeters of which were stabbed into Princess Mary's chest, causing severe damage to her lungs and several major veins, and eventually death as her blood drained from her body."

Then Doctor Hyshita pointed to a spot next to the door. "I have a pretty good idea as to the design of the weapon. It was walking stick, made of ebony and titanium. Unfortunately the very reason I know that is also the reason we will never find the actual weapon. It was vaporized to molecular particles right there, by the same weapon that had been held against Princess Mary's jaw, if I'm any judge of the weapon's energy leakage and blast residue." The doctor then fell silent.

After a few moments, Jean-Luc spoke up, "I want this in a report by the end of next shift. It goes to myself, Marrissa's box, and the Queen, no further. Chief Nelson, how much can we trust the local constable?" He really hoped that the signs she was seeing weren't that of foreign involvement, but at the moment, it looked like it, and Jean-Luc wasn't one to take chances.

"He's a nice enough man, but frankly, this is out of his league," Chief Nelson said, shaking his head. "I'm afraid that he's simply not equipped for this kind of crime. Usually he'd call in the planetary authorities on a crime like this, but right now there just aren't any available. He did a good job keeping the crime scene, but past that." Chief Nelson shrugged his shoulders. "He's a bit of a gossip, actually. I haven't told him about anything we've discovered yet."

Jean-Luc nodded his acknowledgment. Chief Nelson seemed to have a very good handle on the job, in his opinion. Perhaps mustanging him might be a good idea. It might be the only way for him to get more officers of quality in Security. "Inform him know that we're still investigating," Jean-Luc said, as he looked around the room. "Meanwhile, I want all of the evidence secured in our possession. If Marrissa's position means that we're in charge of the evidence, then I want to make sure we don't loose anything. Chief, I want a daily report on my desk on this matter and the attack on Lieutenant Sutter. I believe they're related. An attack on a brother just a little while after his sister is killed is just a little bit too much for me. I want to know who had any reason to take out both, and why. I also want to know exactly who benefits. Don't leave out any possibility, but rate them by probability for me. Doctor Hyshita, good job."

"Thank you, Captain," the Doctor said, going back to her scanning.

Jean-Luc stood there watching for another minute. He really didn't like the way things were connecting up. As soon as he got back to the Enterprise, he was going to bring up Marrissa's Family Tree. With extra-planetary involvement now a possibility, it was looking like someone was deliberately taking out the Royal Family. There had been way too much luck in the survival of the Queen and Lady Hilda. If he excluded Marrissa, and assumed that the intended strike on Londondairy would have taken out George IV and all his descendants ... if he was right, that made Clara's father and Clara next in line. It wouldn't have been hard for a successful assassination of Clara's father to include Clara, who had been in the Quarters outside of which her father had been attacked. With Princess Mary dead ... who would benefit?

"Chief, I need to get back to the Enterprise," Jean-Luc said, heading for the door. He knew that transporting from a crime scene wasn't advised. "Make sure the guard on the Sutters is good, and have someone check on the Queen's security." He was really worrying about his daughter now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The first thought Marrissa had when she woke up was one of panic. It was an unfamiliar room, without the stars above her bed or the low hum of the ship she had become used to during nearly all of her life. That was gone, and for a moment of terror, Marrissa thought it was gone forever. Her new parents, the Captain and the Doctor, had deserted her. A vaguely recalled nightmare added to the panic. She'd been dumped here, left adrift because she was from this planet, all because her parents were having a child of their own flesh.

The room she was in came into focus. The tea-stained white walls were lit with the golden hue of the rising sun through the mullioned windows, their curtains left open overnight. On the stand beside the bed she was in was a picture of a familiar man and a dark haired girl, and Marrissa's fear surged as it seemed to confirm in her sleep filled brain that she'd been abandoned. She sat up straight, and tossed her covers from over her body to the foot of the bed. On the dresser was her communicator, and a hair clip. Nothing was really familiar in the room.

"Marrissa?" now that voice was familiar. It was the soft exotic voice of the half Betazoid Ship's Counselor. The door to the room opened and Troi poked her head into the room. "I felt your panic. Do you need to talk?"

With almost a sob to her voice, the panic slowing but still not dispelled, "yes," she said. Troi was here. She hadn't been exiled from the Enterprise. Troi entered the room and sat down next to Marrissa on the bed, adjusting one of the pillows so it padded her back as she sat against the solid teak bed head.

Then Troi looked at Marrissa. Marissa was still sitting up stiffly, unmoved since Troi had come into the room, save that she had followed Troi's movements, turning her head as Troi had entered and sat down. "Remember, I'm here for you," Troi said softly. Marrissa relaxed at the soft reminder and scooted back to lean against the Counselor.

Marrissa took a deep breath. "I thought I'd been kicked off the Enterprise," she began in an almost whisper tone. "I woke up and I wasn't on board. I couldn't hear any of the usual sounds it looked different and there weren't any of my pictures on the bed stand."

Troi carressed Marrissa as she replied, "and you're afraid that you might be forced to leave?"

"Yes! The Captain and the doctor are having their own little girl, they don't need me any more. They'll just dump me here, now that they know where my biological family is from. I'll be stuck here as some sort of royal brood mare. "

"Yes, your parents are having a baby, but that doesn't mean they love you any less, nor that they don't need you. In fact, I think they might need you even more. Do you think Beverly loves Wesley less because she's now got a daughter in you?" Marrissa shook her head. The Doctor's behavior toward her son at the wedding had been much more affectionate than Wesley appeared to want. "As for your father dumping you here, he could have left you on Earth, but he didn't. He took you with him to the new Enterprise, going to great lengths to make sure you had a spot in this shakedown mission. He's not going to leave you."

"But there wasn't anyone to stay with me on Earth. Here I've got a whole family, and a place and role to fill. It's not like the Captain really wanted me to be an officer."

"I seem to remember a young girl telling me about how the Captain was advising her on what classes to take and how a good officer should behave. Has that changed?" Marrissa shook her head. "Marrissa, your father is just worried about your current job and how quickly you got there. He didn't expect you to be a full Lieutenant with a year and a half of his adopting you. He expected that it would happen years from now, and he certainly didn't expect that you'd become Chief of Security. You took over the job because your predecessor died. It just reminded him of how many he'd lost in that post, and he was afraid for you."

Marrissa hadn't though of it that way. She knew the job was a very risky one. Her father had been fifth in Security's chain of command when he died. The Lieutenant was well aware of the risks. Those risks had been clearly pointed out to her when the Ship's Quartermaster and Chief Legal expert had stopped by to get her to make out a will. Even now she had to shake her head to get the chill that will brought to her. "Do you really think the Captain is worried about me?"

"Marrissa, it was all I could do to stop him from coming down here and pulling you back up to the Enterprise," Troi said. "I think he wanted to confine you to your room for the next decade, hoping that you wouldn't get hurt again. He cares about you, Marrissa."

"He certainly doesn't show it very well," Marrissa replied, somewhat snappishly. The softer, she admitted, "Sometimes I wish I could still snuggle up under the blankets on the old chase lounge like I used to and listen to tales of his adventures. Before the Doctor moved in, it was different. I knew where I was. Now I've got a job I'm not suited for, Dad is being distant, and I'm going to be a big sister soon. Add to that, I've apparently been some high-ranking Princess without knowing. I wish everything could be like it was back on the Enterprise-D."

"Perhaps we should take care of those problems, one at a time," Troi said. "Since we are on Essex, perhaps dealing with the Princess problem should be first, though I do think you need to have some fun first off today, and I spotted something downstairs that should be just the thing."

Marrissa couldn't recall what could possibly be fun in the Act Building. "Really? What?"

"It's time for you to get a new wardrobe," Troi said. Marrissa could see the glee in Troi's eyes at the thought of clothes shopping. It really wasn't something that Marrissa had done before, but she was willing to try it.

...

Marrissa stood at the center of a small room at the back of Senora Tavira's Clothiers in just her panties. Counselor Troi and Senora Tavira were busy at the moment, having just finished helping Marrissa chose some casual jogging clothes. The orange top and violet shorts that Marrissa had worn before had been discarded with disdain by Senora Tavira, who had admonished Marrissa for the combination. She was never again to wear that combination of colors.

Counselor Troi was the first to return with something to try on. It was a short dress, going just down to her crotch. Marrissa put it on in silence, as her eyes tracked Senora Travira pulling in a large rack of what looked like formal wear. The dress had a tight gold, sliver, and black pattern to it, and fit rather well, though it did need a bit of adjustment across her chest, where it was a bit loose. There was one problem though. "This is too short."

Senora Travira turned from the rack she'd pulled in towards the young girl. "It is the current in style length for the formal underdress," Travira said, pulling another patterned one out, this time a green one with large blue flowers. "You wear it under the over dress until you sit down, and your partner takes off the over dress while you eat."

Marrissa wasn't sure she liked that, even if she was only seated when it was exposed. She preferred not to show her panties, at least since that incident with Jay and the gravity failure. Troi was looking at Marrissa's expression, and Marrissa figured that the Counselor could taste her emotions. She really needed Troi to say something.

"I don't think that Marrissa needs to be quite a slave to the current in style, Senora," Troi said, motioning to Marrissa to remove the under dress. "She's used to the simple tailoring of the uniform, and I believe she's in a position where she can make style, if she so wishes."

"Perhaps on her starship she can," Senora Travira said, hand Marrissa the green underdress. "But you've told me that she's going to attend the dinners in typical civilian formal wear. That means no uniform clone outfits, and to set style on a planet you have to be someone."

Marrissa didn't like any of the patterns that had been sent her way so far. The floral patterns that she'd been given so far were to her mind particularly hideous. She'd been told that she had no style. Fine, perhaps it would be time to find some style, but if this was the in style, she wanted to be someone to change it. She really didn't like cashing in on her position, especially when she wasn't even sure that she wanted the position, but if the idea of being in was that black with orange magnolias on it underdress, she couldn't see why anyone would wear that, and she definitely wasn't.

Her sudden words came out harsh, and rushed. "Would being the bloody heir to the throne qualify?" Senora Travira turned towards Marrissa abruptly, dropping the orange and black underdress. Marrissa could see her astonishment in her face. Her position had not been announced, it was one of the agreements she'd worked out with the Queen in Sickbay. Her position wouldn't be advertized until at least after her shore leave, and in turn, Marrissa wouldn't renounce her right to the throne for at least a year.

Troi broke the silent stare of locked eyes between the two as she spoke up. "It seems, Senora, that I didn't properly introduce my charge. Let me rectify that matter with her full legal ranks and titles. Senora Travia meet Her Royal Highness Lieutenant Marrissa Amber Flores Picard, Princess of Halifax, daughter of the late Prince George, Earl of Flores, lately adopted by Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise, and currently serving as Chief of Security on the same. Marrissa, Senora Travira, Master Tailor and Proprietor of this establishment."

There was a minute's silence, before Senora Travira replied, "Yes, that would do it." Senora Travira turned to look at what she'd brought into the room. "I take it that you find these floral patterns as hideous as I found your shorts and top?" Marrissa nodded. "I thought I recognized your expression. Let's start fresh, then. Colors and patterns. Tell me, what's the one outfit that you really like that you've seen."

Marrissa didn't take long to respond. "The command class B uniform from a year ago." Once it had escaped her mouth, she immediately blushed. It seemed so ... stereotypical to respond with that. After all, she'd grown up wanting to wear it, to become Captain of a starship some day. Lately, however, that goal was looking quite distant, and Marrissa was glad of it. Chief of Security wasn't an easy job, and the job of posted Captain of a starship was much worse, she'd seen her father's document queue.

"Clean straight lines, with just a bit of break up to it, black and pure red," Senora Travira recalled. "Before or after they got rid of the piping?"

"After," Marrissa replied after a moment's pause to figure out what Travira meant about piping.

"And do you like the collar on that uniform, or do you prefer something else?" Senora Travira was beginning to go around the room, pulling different patterns and cloth samples from side cabinets around the extra large dressing room.

Marrissa considered it for a moment. "I do, but only when it's not tight," she replied, as she saw Travira pull out a blue-silver plain underdress. "I like that color."

"Really?" Travira said, bringing it over to hold up against Marrissa. "I don't think I've used a plain color like this in a score of years. Try it on, your highness." Marrissa frowned a moment at the title, but quickly put the dress on. It fit like a glove, and went a full decimeter below her crotch. It was almost too tight actually. "Needs some adjustment, I see, and in your position, I think you need to be a bit more mobile than what this will give you. Perhaps a slit on each side up to the hip?"

"Wouldn't that be a little revealing?" Marrissa asked, sliding the underdress off, carefully.

"For a dress like that it's either that, or make the bottom flare out," Travira said, putting the dress on a panel up against the wall, where it suddenly inflated as if Marrissa was still in it. "Flaring tends to cause creasing while the overdress is on. I don't recommend it. Now let's adjust this just a bit. Alterer, increase bustage by point three and add thin padding of point two. That should handle the bust line a bit, and give you just a little enhancement. Alterer, add two slits to hips, on the sides. Go." The dress changed, increasing just a bit across the breast, and adding two slits on the sides. Travira pulled it off the Alterer and handed it back to Marrissa.

Marrissa felt it fit perfectly as she looked at herself in the mirror. It was still short, but that wasn't what caught her eyes. The underdress wasn't quite solid. It had swirls of a very slightly lighter shade of blue-silver that twirled around, gently cupping her breasts, Her pony tail had been let out, and Counselor Troi was now teasing her hair out, allowing it to cascade over her shoulders.

Pretty wasn't term that Marrissa applied to herself. Even cute wasn't a term that she had ever applied to herself, but with this perfectly adjusted dress, she looked different. She liked the way she looked in it. With her golden tresses cascading across her shoulders, down to her breast, she'd always been considered plain, nothing special to look at. She'd accepted that, but now ...

"Wow."

...

Marrissa was browsing through some of the prepared outfits while Counselor Troi had her turn with Senora Travira, when the door opened, causing the bell to ring. There were lots of theses flora patterns, which Marrissa hated. It was a good thing she didn't have to follow the current style.

"Father, why are we stopping here?" a young male voice said. Marrissa turned to spot a young boy, no more than ten entering the shop with his father. The man was a stout one, with a nose like a ski slope. He wore a suit with tails, the traditional attire for Parliament. As Marrissa looked over the rack, she noticed him opening his pocket watch.

The watch's lid looked somehow familiar to her, with it's silver and red pattern on gold, but her view of it was short, as the man put it away when he was done checking the time. "We are here, Martin, because your best school uniforms are quite simply good enough for the tasks that lie ahead of you. This shop happens to be convent to those needs."

The door to the fitting room opened with a squeal, and Senora Travira emerged. "Welcome to my humble clothier, Mister Dessalines. It has been quite some time since I've seen you. What can I do for you?"

"I'm afraid that until recently I have been unable to stop by Naverre," Dessalines said, the pocket watch coming back into view, as he adjusted his suit coat. "And most fortunately, your attire has always been much more lasting and serviceable than your competitors, so I've been able to put my return off a bit. It would have been some weeks even now if it weren't for my son Martin, lamentable lack of a good three piece suit, or any good formal wear at all."

"I'm certain that I can provide you with some elegantly tailored formal wear, sturdy enough for a young boy like your son," Senora Travira said. Marrissa smiled at Martin, who had looked over in her direction, as he was drawn over to a rack. "May I suggest that you use the prepared coats over here to choose some fabrics? I have just a couple more fittings with the lady in my dressing room, and I should be able to call you back."

Dessalines nodded his acceptance of the task, almost dismissively, as Travira turned towards Marrissa. "Marrissa, your dresses are done, if you'll come back with me to pick them up?" Marrissa followed her back, catching Martin's look of frustration as his father started suggesting tweeds.

...

Marrissa stood outside the office of the Headmaster of Scholastica Cervantes, glad that she'd let Senora Tarvira talk her into the bolero and skirt outfit that she was wearing. Apparently the locals, a ethnic group known as the Basque, didn't believe in climate control in their schools. The boys school was located just north of the Florestown district of Navarre, and was the one which her father had attended. The room she was waiting in was done in dark wood paneling with a dark marbleized waistcoat. The hard formal seating seemed to encourage one to be uncomfortable.

Marrissa's review of the room was interrupted by a sudden, unexpected buzzing sound. The sound was enough to cause her to nearly jump in the quiet room. "Miss Picard, please enter." The double doors to the Headmaster's Office opened, an echoing knock sounding as they reached their maximum extent. Marrissa walked through them, her new sandals clicking on the polished hardwood floor.

The headmaster's office was large, with a very high ceiling, painted with clouds. The wall opposite the door was covered with books and dominated by a large solid desk in a deep forbidding dark wood. A stiff high-backed chair sat in front of it, looking quite uncomfortable. To the right was a large window, which overlooked the school's central courtyard, and to the left was a fireplace, which despite the tropical environment of Navarre, looked like it had seen some use. In front of the fireplace were two small couches, angled so they formed a triangle with the fireplace. Seated in front of the fireplace was the Headmaster.

The headmaster had patrician features and short curly red hair, and his skin was a light shade of bronze. He was dressed seriously in dark charcoal gray coat and trousers, but his expression was one of welcoming, not the severe look that she had expected from the Headmaster, given his waiting room.

"Miss Marrissa Picard, I presume," the Headmaster said as he stood. Marrissa nodded "I'm Francisco Cavazos, Headmaster of Scholastica Cervantes." He shook Marrissa's hand before gesturing towards the couch opposite the one he'd been seated at. "Please, be seated. Can I get you anything? Perhaps a glass of juice?"

"No thank you, sir," Marrissa replied. She really only liked strawberry juice when it came to the juices, and doubted that the Headmaster would have that. She sat down on the couch, careful to make sure her skirt covered her panties.

"Your ship's counselor told me that you wished to talk to someone who knew your father when he was in school here," the Headmaster stated. Marrissa nodded. "I was your father's head of house and football coach while he was here. As we are, unfortunately, on break, I'm the only staff member in residence who was here when he attended." Marrissa nodded again, as the Headmaster leaned back on the couch. She relaxed and let the Headmaster begin to tell her of her father.

"Your father first really caught my attention during his first year here, when I caught him playing a pick up game of football with some of his housemates. The Royal House is somewhat known for it's talents in football. His grandfather, King George II, was known as a world class footballer, and even died on the field. Still, I was quite surprised, especially at his precision passing at such a young age. I immediately put him on the house team, where he quickly excelled as our star forward. It wasn't until third year, however, that I was able to put him on the school team. Prince George immediately became the primary factor behind our winning the Naverre School Football Cup for four straight years, ending his final year by winning the George II Cup. I'll take you by the trophy room to see it."

Marrissa had played football a few times with her father. She remembered how competitive he was. Even a pick up game with his daughter and her friends had resulted in at least three sprained ankles among Marrissa's friends, trying to get the ball from her father, and Alexander had actually gotten a bloody nose when her father had bounced the ball off Alexander's face into the goal. She wasn't surprised that her father had been good at the sport.

"Of course, he wasn't just an athlete, being second in line to the throne during his time here, he couldn't afford to be seen as indifferent to academics, not that his nature was against studying, at least after the first couple years. He was quite often found in the courtyard of the library that we share with Scholastica of Nursia, the premier girls school in the area, with his nose in a book and his feet in the fountain, no matter how many times we told him not to put them in there."

The image of her father with his bare feet in the fountain reading brought to mind those late night sessions when Marrissa was very young. She'd trip over his boots, and crawl into her father's arms to listen to his deep baritone voice read a classic work of Copperfield, Twain, or McCaffrey. Captain Picard had never read to Marrissa, but perhaps she was too old for that now.

"In his third year, Prince George took up the saber. It's an elective that at the time was jointly taught between us and Scholastica of Nursia, due to a shortage of qualified instructors at the time. Any time we share courses with Scholastica of Nursia, there is quite a demand for the elective, especially in the older forms, but Swordmaster Raistlin was quite adapt at weeding out those in it to meet girls. Prince George wasn't in it for that, but he ended up doing it anyway."

"Mendi Gurrieri ... a spitfire of a Basque girl, that one was. He met her in Fencing. I met her the year before when she punched our Head Boy for making a rather inappropriate remark about the girls on the Scholastica of Nursia football team. After fourth year, those two were inseparable. Both were disciplined multiple times for sneaking into each other's dorm rooms after curfew ... it came to no one's surprise when they passed up being Head Boy and Head Girl to room off campus together, though I understand that they did have separate rooms in their flat. How often those rooms were both occupied at night is anyone's guess."

"What happened to her?" Marrissa asked in the brief pause, remembering the pristine room labeled with 'Mendi.' "Her room in the flat is a virtual shrine."

"That's appropriate," the Headmaster said, his expression dropping into one of remembered sorrow. "Mendi is why your father left Essex, as far as I can tell." Marrissa sat up straighter and leaned towards the Headmaster, her attention fully engaged. "On Essex your last exams are known as 'A Levels' and you're not considered to have completed your secondary education until those results are in. It generally takes about two to three weeks for them to arrive. Many students return home to await those results, but most young couples like your father and Mendi who live off campus stay in their flats and wait.

"Mendi's father had apparently been too busy to find out that she was rooming with Prince George. When she didn't come home following her A Levels, he noticed. I really don't think he knew who she was rooming with, and make no mistake, it would have made a great deal of difference if he had. There were a series of calls made to the flat, and eventually Mendi was summoned home for a personal chat. Prince George had intended to go with Mendi, but he was summoned to the Mount Ararat Royal Retreat at just the wrong time."

"Mendi went alone," the Headmaster said, before pausing for a moment. "Have you seen the cliff on the north side of the city?" Marrissa nodded. "The Gurrieri's occupy a house at the top of that cliff that is accessible via a long stair that winds its way up the cliff. After talking to her father, Mendi stormed out and ran down the stairs. It was raining at the time, and she slipped and fell to her death."

Marrissa found a tear suddenly going down her cheek. It had been obvious that Mendi had been someone special from how her room had been maintained, seemingly untouched for sixteen years. Now she knew why, it was such a tragedy.

"Prince George didn't find out about it until two days later, when Mendi's younger brother Balasi caught up with him, along with the family sword just outside their flat," the Headmaster said, with a note of sadness seeping into his tone. "I don't know what happened between them, but Balasi spent three weeks in jail as a result."

"Prince George had been called out of town because his father had appointed him the Etxearen Erregela Jaun, and I believe that George blamed his father for Mendi's death. In any case, two weeks later, after Mendi had been laid to rest on the Isle of Repose, King George arrived at his office in Londondairy to find his son's resignation on his desk, along with a long accusatory letter. Prince George left Essex sometime before and never set foot on Essex again, as far as I know."

The Headmaster lapsed into silence as Marrissa absorbed this new information. It put an entirely different flavor to what Marrissa had known. Royal duty had seemed to her to be what caused the riff between her father and his father. Now something else had intruded to that, something she hadn't considered. It had never crossed Marrissa's mind that her father might have been in love before her mother. Her parents had never hidden that they loved each other. Her father had always kissed her mother before he'd turn his attention to his daughter, his little princess.

"Why your father left is a concern of yours," the Headmaster said, interrupting Marrissa's thoughts. Marrissa nodded. "Then I think you should go talk to Balasi Gurrieri. He works as a fisherman, I believe he's made Captain of his own boat, and lives in the other flat in the building that your father had his. His wife works for me as the school registrar. Meanwhile, why don't we go to the trophy room and see what your father earned here. They should all be nicely polished, at the moment, after the end of term detentions. We've even got the George II cup again, for the first time since your father's seventh year. Afterwards, I believe I've still got the discipline book for your father's years as well as a few of his essays."

The Headmaster stood up and Marrissa followed him to the trophy room. The trophies, while no doubt nice, weren't what she was looking for, though she couldn't exactly say why the half-formed lack of care applied to them. She admitted to being curious as to why her father would be in the discipline book a lot, though she had to admit to having a mischievous streak of her own. For some reason, the idea of reading her father's essays, thought, that she was interested in. That, and finding Balasi Gurrieri.

...

Marrissa found herself lost in thought as she walked back from Scholastica Cervantes. She had learned so much about her father in such a short time. The Headmaster really hadn't been that much of a help, but once she'd gotten to the trophy room, and then read through the yearbooks that were stored on a shelf there, she started putting some things together.

Her father had apparently been the star forward on the football team since his third year, and there were plenty of pictures of him. The football picture she liked the most, however, hadn't been in the year book. It was in the trophy room, as the background behind a large one labeled the "Battenburg Royal Cup." Her father, then about fifteen was on the shoulders of his team mates as he raised the cup above himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

There were several pictures of him fencing, but you really couldn't see more than his excellent stance, as he always wore his protective gear in them. Fencing was one of the few things that linked Marrissa with both her father and the Captain who had adopted her, so she'd lingered over them. Only the team photos didn't have his head covered. The girl had looked at them closely. The team had been a rather large one, and the first few years her father had been relegated to the sides, usually barely peeking out from behind another student.

That changed the last couple years, as he moved to more conspicuous positions, as his standing in the team had increased. The last year he had an additional picture, with that Mendi again, standing together their swords crossed as they faced each other. The photographer had caught the tender look that they were giving each other quite well. Marrissa had seen it on her father before, when he'd been looking at her own mother.

She'd seen the same look on a couple of pictures in the flat as well. Marrissa wanted to compare them, but first she had another stop. The man who gave her father his scar, Balasi Gurrieri was willing to meet her at the dock to talk about her father. His fishing boat was due in port in about thirty minutes, and this short cut though this shaded alley should let her arrive just in time, with just a moderate jog's pace.

As she turned down the alley, a pair of men wearing black fedoras to cover their ears walked passed her. They seemed to be in quite a hurry.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Captain Jean-Luc Picard was busy finishing up the large amount of shakedown paperwork that had accumulated since he'd taken command of the Sovereign Class Enterprise. Most of it just required a scan of the summary and his signature, as Commander Riker filtered off a great deal of it and the detailed day to day decisions that ran a ship of the line. However there were still a few that required him to read it all and make some decisions. With a long-time First Officer like Riker, he could expect just what really needed his attention to land on his desk.

He paused and looked up at the two pictures on his desk. On the old Enterprise he hadn't had those pictures, one of Beverly and one of Marrissa, there. Marrissa's picture had made it's way to the ready room, but it had been on a side table. It had taken a lot of thought as to which pictures to place in what was the most public of the Captain's personal space.

The picture of Beverly was the wedding bride's photo, a rather traditional pose. Marrissa's was more of an action picture. He'd caught it a couple years before when they were on leave in France. Marrissa sat on top of one of the riding horses from Stargazer Stables, as it galloped through the woods between the stables and the Picard Vineyard. The mane was tossed in the wind and Marrissa had an expression of pure enjoyment, as she cried out with glee.

As he turned back to the weekly systems summary, preparing to dive into the details of plasma transfer conduit realignment, his door chime rang. Jean-Luc put down the PADD and said, "Come."

Chief Nelson strode through the doors as they parted. As the second ranking officer in Security, the Master Chief was acting Chief of Security while Marrissa was on leave. This was a state of affairs that Jean-Luc was quite comfortable with. "Chief Nelson, thank you for coming," Jean-Luc said. "How is Security going?"

"Well, Captain, we've got a few problems, as the Lieutenant has probably informed you, but recent events have put some steel in the spines of some of our problem crewmen," Nelson said, taking a seat across from the Captain. "And I'm sad to say that we have a few real fitness problems. I know of at least four crewmen who can't do the Star Fleet Academy Training Course in twice Marrissa's time."

"I see," Jean-Luc said. Beverly had mentioned that there were a few fitness problems in Security, but he hadn't known it was that bad.

"I'm working on fixing that ... telling them that they aren't even half as good as their C. O., the, as they call her, teenage wonder girl, usually with a lot of sarcasm, has turned out to be a wonderful motivator," Chief Nelson said with a smile. "Of course, I'm not telling them that Marrissa's final time on the course at the Academy a few months ago is number four among the command crew's Academy times."

Captain Picard was quite aware of that. His daughter may have signed up for the officer's accelerated version of the Security Fitness and Defense Course without his permission, and with considerable protest when he'd gotten back to Earth, but he'd been quite proud of her results. Chief Nelson had been teaching that course for over a decade, and Marrissa gave lots of credit to the Chief for her physical fitness. It was why Jean-Luc had offered Nelson a position on the Enterprise. "How are the investigations going?"

"Slowly, I'm afraid," Chief Nelson replied. "Normally I'd be doing a comparison of known criminals with the planetary database to the partial DNA that Doctor Hyshita obtained, as my next step in the Princess Mary investigation. However, that database disappeared, along with a great deal of the planetary medical database. I do have my suspicions in the case, the Princess's ex-husband, Ely Dessalines, is at the top of my list, but so far there isn't any evidence to link him to the murder."

"I see, and the attempt on Lieutenant Daniel Sutter's life?" Jean-Luc asked, leaning a bit forward.

"Open and shut case, as far as I can tell," Nelson said, leaning back. "There are some related cases, in regards to the Lieutenant's phaser, in particular, but those are internal discipline cases."

"Understood," Jean-Luc replied, leaning back in his chair. "We've got some envoys from the Council on their way, so it's time to make sure everything is in order. Take your report to Marrissa and Queen Victoria, personally. They both need to be kept up on developments in the Princess Mary case."

"Bridge to Captain Picard," Commander Riker's voice said.

"Go on Chief," Jean-Luc said. "We'll handle the rest when you get back." He tapped his communicator. "Picard."

"The Swiftsure has arrived and is making a hot orbital insertion," Riker said.

"I'll be right out, Number One."

...

Marrissa had altered her run this morning. With Parliament meeting in just a few hours, she wanted to be back so she could watch the live broadcast. As she jogged up the stepper course towards the Castilleia de Flores, she began running over the little she knew about Essex Politics. The Constitutional Monarchy was something of an anomaly for Federation Member Worlds. In fact, it was more of an anachronism than anything else. The House of Commons was like many other worlds she'd studied during her Civics class a few years back, and the lifetime appointments on merit in the House of Lords, while unusual, were hardly unique. The Vulcans had something similar for its Science Ministry. The Monarch, on the other hand, hereditary heads of states were things straight out of Medieval Times, or from some strange alien world.

As she passed the neo-gothic Cathedral, heading towards her turn around point, the Gates of the Castilleia, she let out a breath of amusement. She'd teased Clara about being a Princess before, and she ended up being, how did that tailor put it? She nodded as she passed a priest. The bloody Princess of Halifax, heir to the throne ... God must have a sense of humor.

From up ahead Marrissa heard a loud bang, followed by a low rumble. She couldn't place the sounds in her experience, as she had spent the vast majority of her life in space, but as she reached the next intersection, it was clear where it came from. The towers beside the gates of the Castilleia had collapsed ... and a rolling cloud of dust was heading towards her. She ducked into a nearby doorway, and hit her communicator.

"Lieutenant Picard to Enterprise, code three emergency." The dust cloud rolled by and began to settle behind the front.

"Enterprise," came the comforting voice of her father. "Go ahead."

"I've just spotted the collapse of the gate towers of the Castilleia de Flores. I'm less than an half a kilometer from them," Marrissa reported, trying to keep her voice as solid and professional as possible, despite the dust and her own pounding heart. "I'm heading to investigate, and I'd appreciate some medical and security back up ASAP."

"The Doctor and the quick response team will be down within a couple minutes," Captain Picard said. "Be careful, Marrissa."

"I will, Lieutenant Picard out."

...

The member from Port-au-Prince entered the chamber in which the joint session of Parliament would be meeting. Ely Dessalines nodded to the guard by the door before taking his seat on the front bench on the left side of the room, as befitted his position as the leader of the King's, no Queen's now, Loyal Opposition. He hadn't planned on Victoria surviving. Actually he hadn't planned on any of the Lancaster Government surviving. As he took a seat he nodded to the member from Marinas who was seated next to him, and noted that Duchess Clarrissa had take the heir seat position, opposite the speaker's dais. That boded well for his party, as the Duchess was a ranking member of it.

The Speaker of the Commons had died as a result of the impact, which meant that the joint session would be chaired by the longest serving member of either house that attended. Dessalines went through that short list of living Lords. It would be the Duchess, he figured. There were a couple with more seniority in Parliment, but they had long been inactive. That would make some things interesting with her dual roles and possibly conflicting loyalties. Dessaliness wasn't so naive that he didn't think that the Duchess had some loyalty to soon-to-be-late Queen, but the Duchess as a Progressive should give him just a bit of an edge. It looked like all the likely Lords and all surviving MPs had arrived, so he looked expectantly at the seated Duchess.

The speaker's door in the back opened, and the young Independent Party Leader, Maynard Kawahara appeared, helping an old lady through the door. As Kawahara moved out of line, Dessalines identified the aged robes of one of his fellow former Prime Ministers, Sheela Das. He felt a slinking feeling as the Independant Party Leader assisted his predecessor as leader and holder of the seat from Kavindra on to the Speaker's Dais. Das had been a personal adversary during Dessalines's first few years as Progressive Party Leader. She'd taken delight in his initial defeat for the role as the Opposition Leader. Das took her seat on the dais, pulling actual papers out from her satchel and arranging them before her. The room had gone silent as she reached for the gavel.

"Bang. Bang."

Dessalines looked to his left, expecting to see Kawahara there. He wasn't. The Independent Party leader was sitting in the Government's Benches, along with the other two surviving independents. The count would still be in his favor, though, when the Basque arrived.

Das announced, "This joint emergency session of Parliament is now in session, as called for by her Majesty Queen Victoria of Essex, first of that name, under the terms of Amendment Three." Ely could tell that the old lady was about to go on, but perhaps fortunately the door opened to admit two more late Lords.

"We're not late, are we, Lady Sheela-la-la?" the lead one, who Dessalines identified as Vladimar Kardashev by his eccentric loud patterned shirt and long white goatee. It was a most inappropriate outfit for attending Parliament, but he wasn't going to tell the noted power plant designer what he couldn't wear. His presence identified his companion as Kumar Singh, a long time collaborator on many ventures and designs. Both had gotten their merit seats back in 2342 during Das's Government. They were also nominally Independents. "Where are the Independents seated today?"

"I have gavelled us open, my Lords Kardashev and Singh," Das replied in a long-suffering tone. "The Independents are seated behind the member from Kavindra on the Government Bench today. Would the usher please provide my Lords Kardashev and Singh with a detox tab, and the traditional robes?" The two old Lords stumbled to a seat way behind the Independent Party Leader. Dessalines was already going through his list of Lords who weren't in. There didn't seem to be many others likely to arrive. "Ladies and Gentlemen, before I was interrupted, I was explaining the reason for this special session. This session is called to confirm the joint declaration of an Amendment Three Crisis by the Prime Minister and her Majesty, the Queen. Her Royal Highness, Princess Clarrissa, Duchess of Norsex, will give a brief statement on her Majesty's reasoning, then the honorable member from Brisbane and the Duchess of Norsex are here to answer your questions about the merits of calling the Amendment Three Crisis. The Floor will remain open for questions until a motion to call for a vote is passed or the chair declares that all questions have ceased from the floor. Duchess Norsex, you have the floor."

The Duchess rose from her seat. Dessalines schooled his face to neutrality. "Her Majesty believes that in the light of the loss of over ten million people in the most populous and largest city on Essex, including over ninety percent of the members of this revered ruling body by an event only equaled to by that of the explosion of Mount Shortbottom-Chamberland, such a declaration is not only logical but demanded from her. The effects of this asteroid impact are still being felt on this planet in the form of a series of ongoing earthquakes along the Prometheus Isthmus and a currently contained large wildfire that has already consumed over thirty thousand acres near Londondairy."

"The Queen has already set into motion the gathering of data for a full investigation on how this asteroid managed to literally impact Essex under the eyes of the Queen and her Prime Minister." The Duchess was stern, delivering the facts sharply, more so than Dessalines thought was merited. "While that data gathering is still in progress, recent events have indicated that this event may be just one in a series of vicious attacks on Essex." The Duchess paused to let that idea sink in. This was not what Dessalines had expected from her. "Two days ago, there was an attempted assassination of Prince Daniel Sutter, who serves as an officer aboard the USS Enterprise. It is believed that the assassin intended not only to kill Prince Daniel, but his daughter as well. Fortunately, though Prince Daniel's wounds were most serious, his attempted assassin was stopped in time by the Enterprise's Chief of Security, Lieutenant Marrissa Picard."

The room was absolutely silent as the Duchess continued. Dessalines let his expression dissolve into shock, an easy reaction. "While we have yet to find a confirmed connection between this event and that of the impact, their timing has aroused suspicions and highlights the need for Essex's Third Amendment to be confirmed. The Queen has all hopes that her duties under this Amendment will be short and a general election can be held with due dispatch. A schedule for by-elections will be provided for your approval later today. Madam Speaker, I yield the floor to the member from Brisbane."

Dessalines turned his attention to Prime Minister Lancaster, who stood from his front bench. He focused his attention tightly on the Prime Minister, as what Lancaster was about to say would have to be exploited carefully. Lancaster was at easy, obviously well prepared for this. There were some who said that Billy Lancaster was born for the job of Prime Minister. Dessalines had to object to that, especially since the young Lancaster had been Prime Minister for only a little over a month, but he couldn't forget about that opinion. It had to be factored in.

"Ladies, Lords, fellow members of Parliament," Lancaster began. "I'm here today to give a report that, if you vote as you should, will put me out of a job for some months. The framers of our Third Amendment were wise in choosing the Prime Minister, the man or woman whose authority is most directly effected, to give the report on the Queen's actions while acting as the executive authority to this special confirmation session. While I can not, and will not, say that my relationship with the Queen prior to her ascension did not effect my judgement, I have endeavored to provide you a concise and fair report."

Dessalines smiled inwardly. Lancaster had just provided him with the opening he would need. "At twenty-one sixteen Londondairy Mean Time on July the Twentith, the impact occurred. I was with then Princess Victoria, who had been my dinner date at a formal dinner between His Majesty's Ministers following our Economic Policy Retreat. We were on the balcony when we spotted the impact. After confirming via weather satellite that the King and the City of Londondairy were dead, I informed the Queen of her ascension. As she collected herself, she took charge of the situation. Emergency plans were activated. The Queen ordered the Basque Government to assist the continuity of government operations, and informed the Federation Government."

"Since that time, the Queen has put long hours in to assure that everything is done and done properly," Lancaster said. "She has personally relieved and took the place of exhausted workers until their relief arrives. She delegated where she could, making good use of those specialists assigned to the starships currently in orbit."

"Many of those specialists have prepared detailed reports for the Queen, which I am now making available to you," Lancaster said. "I'm afraid that Lieutenant Picard was not able to complete her report to her satisfaction due to injuries incurred in apprehending the attempted assassin of Prince Daniel. Madam Speaker, I wish to open the floor for debate."

"So opened," the elderly lady replied. "This chamber is reminded to follow proper protocol. I will not have this assembly devolve into a cacophony." Dessalines immediately stood, along with several others. His deputy, McDougall, the member from Marinas was already paging through the reports, but it was important that he, as Leader of the Opposition, received the first response. "The member from Port-au-Prince."

"Thank you, Madam Speaker," Dessalines acknowledged. He'd been preparing this speech for days before the impact. He knew that today's words could either set him firm on the path to power or send him into the bowels of Hell, as his mother had been threatening him with since he was old enough to speak. "There is no doubt that this event is a tragedy, and before we begin our debate, I ask that the chamber observe two minutes of silence in the honor of those that died."

"The chamber will remain silent for two minutes, at the request of the member from Port-au-Prince," the Speaker ordered. The room descended in silence. Dessalines took the minutes to scan the reports from the Enterprise. He took particular attention of the one from the Chief of Security of the Enterprise. It looked like his connections were well hidden there, though the report was obviously incomplete. It appeared that it had only been a day or so since the attempt. It wouldn't be easy to make a second one, as the first had went down in flames, nearly. He could still hope that Prince Daniel would take a turn for the worse, as his condition remained critical.

"Port-au-Prince, you retain the floor," the Speaker said after the couple minutes had passed. It was time to start.

"I appreciate the forthrightness of the member from Brisbane in acknowledging his pre-existing relationship with the Queen," Dessalines said. "However I can not help but wonder how much of his praise of the Queen's abilities are seen through rose colored glasses. In particular I am worried about the credentials of those that prepared these reports." Dessalines nodded to the Speaker indicating that this sally was off.

Several members were already standing, indicating that they wished to respond. The Speaker's choice was quick. "The member from Kavindra." Dessalines detected a bit of a bias with the choice, but hoped it would work in his favor, as Maynard was new to the Government bench.

"Thank you, Madame Speaker," Kavindra responded. "Are any of us in the necessary scientific fields for these reports? The member from Thermopylae, with his degree in military history would no doubt help us if we were judging defense, and we have no less than three top flight engineers in Duchess Norsex, and Lords Kardashev and Singh, but none of us are scientists. Lamentably all of our members with those credentials have gone to their eternal rest. None of us are better able to judge these reports than the others. So we must look at who said them, and read carefully."

"The member from Stratford-on-Avon."

The tall willowy Education Minister took the floor next. "I see no reason not to use these initial reports as the basis for our confirmation vote. All the scientists have published papers."

"The member from Kasmir."

The Consistency Party leader seemed to be the last still standing. "I see no reason not to confirm this Third Amendment Crisis here," Havea Naji said. "There is no sign of gross incompetence on the Queen's part, and if anyone here denies the impact that we had, they are in my view unfit to serve. I move that we call for a vote."

"The motion to vote on confirmation is on the floor, do we have a second." Dessalines nodded at his second in command, and Kathleen McDougal stood. "The member from Marinas seconds. We will do this by voice. All in favor of the motion?" There was a loud chorus of ayes, from both sides of the aisle, though given the sparseness of the Opposition Bench it was just an echo there. "Opposed?" Silence. "The motion passes."

Dessalines looked around the room until his name came, dutifully entering his affirmative vote. No one would be voting against this confirmation, that would be political suicide. There was an aide entering from one of the side door. He stopped and haded a PADD to the Justice Minister, who nodded and looked up. Lonna Shacklesin's gaze locked with Dessalines for a moment and he felt a chill going through him, until she looked away.

"With all votes of those present accounted for, the confirmation is affirmed with a margin of twenty-five to nothing." Lady Das banged her gavel with a surprisingly loud crack. "Do we have any other issues before the Chamber?" Dessalines stood. "The member from Port-au-Prince."

This was Dessalines's moment. He cleared his throat and announced in a clear loud voice, "I ask for the confirmation of the entry of those elected to serve from the Basque this past morning and call for a vote of no confidence in the Prime Minister, upon their entry." He smiled as Billy Boy Lancaster took on the expression of the spoiled child whose just had someone take his favorite toy.

"Do we have a second?" The ever loyal member from Marinas stood. Dessalines broke out in a big smile. He'd just placed two linked items on the agenda. It was now in Lancaster's court. Both of them had to be considered in the same session, and no other item had been placed before it. "The item is next on our agenda. Does anyone have any additional items to be placed on the agenda?" There was silence, as the Government stared at the four members seated in the opposition bench, knowing that twenty members from Basque would soon join that bench.

The margin that Dessalines had was slimmer than he had expected, four votes instead of the nine he'd calculated, but it only took half plus one to result in a no-confidence vote. He wasn't worried about the vote to admit the Basque. It would be political suicide to exclude them, anyway. It was possible that Lancaster would delay it by calling for adjournment.

Lancaster stood. His face was schooled in determination. "The member from Brisbane." There was a long pause before any word left his mouth. His glare focused of Dessalines, almost boring through him.

"The Government will take up the issues placed before it by the honorable member from Port-au-Prince," Lancaster said, his voice practically dripping with venom. "However, before we do, I will remind the right honorable gentlemen of the proper usage of linked issues. Madame Speaker, please send for the members from the Basque."

It only took a couple minutes for the main door to open with a bang, as it rebounded off the doorstops before the catch prevented it from slamming back closed. "Madame Speaker, I have elect that beg entrance to this esteemed chamber," the door warden announced. He was quite young, and not at all like the venerable old man who had the job ever since Dessalines could remember. The new man's voice was a tenor to the old man's deep bass, but whoever had chosen him had chosen well, judging from the man's poise and unhesitating announcement of his most important job."

"Elect, approach and announce yourself," the Speaker said. Dessalines tuned out the rest of the ritual, only returning to it long enough to enter his affirmative vote and smile a welcome to the Basque that joined the Opposition Bench. The twenty installed from Basque gave him just enough time to read through the most important of the documents that had been distributed. He highlighted a few sentences that would be of use. As a party leader, his vote would be cast early. He had already decided to let the loyal Kathleen McDougal go last, and have the honor of casting the final nail on Lancaster's coffin.

The last one took his seat, and then, as tradition gave him the right, Dessalines rose to speak. "Members, Ladies, Lords, I challenge the member from Brisbane's position in this time of crisis due to his inexperience. In a time of crisis we do not need neophytes bumbling around. I also challenge him due to his own actions which could have prevented this tragic event. One of the first actions of this government was to cancel the Prometheus Defense Network. I can not in good conscience let this first opportunity to unseat such negligence pass. I urge my fellow members on both sides of the isle to vote no confidence in the Lancaster Government."

Dessalines sat down, and looked across the isle at his opponent. From experience he knew that this would be William Lancaster II's most difficult moment on the floor, responding to unexpected charges. It had been less than four months since he'd been in that very spot.

Lancaster rose and stood, staring right at Dessalines. "I wish I could say that I could see honor in the member from Port-au-Prince's motion. He claims I am inexperienced in this time of crisis. Indeed, I suspected that charge when I got wind of this. However, that change falls flat. While it is true that the member from Port-au-Prince has more experience as Prime Minister, it is in a quite different time, under a quite different role. Under a Third Amendment Crisis, the Prime Minister must have a good established working relationship with the monarch. To be successful, you must have trust, be willing to do tasks that normally would not be yours, and above all, take on the role of consul, confidant, and even friend. Those of you who served with me, whether you were called by the Queen or volunteered, know this. Long hours, stress, and the loss of many of those we knew made everything hard, but together, as a team, we supported our new Queen. We are proven now, bound together, no welded together under the fire of crisis. Break that weld, and you risk us all. Port-au-Prince has no such weld, no such experience. He is a law maker, not a leader."

"I would explain to the member from Port-au-Prince the reasons behind the cancellation of the Prometheus Defense Network, but there are members here that understand it better than I, and that were more involved in the decision. I have asked the member from Thermopylae to explain the Government's reasoning behind that decision again to this chamber. I stand before you willing to answer any of your questions. My door remains open, just as it was from the day I was elected, and just as my own father's was. I implore you not to use advantages of the moment to for what I assure you will be a pyrrhic victory."

"I yield for the point to the member from Thermopylae," Lancaster said, then he sat down. Dessalines thought the response was remarkably well prepared for what had to be an unexpected turn of events. It gave the appearance that Lancaster knew this was going to happen.

The burly member from Thermopylae stood, and began speaking in his deep bass voice. "Members of this chamber, the Prometheus Defense Network was first proposed by the Kennedy Government back in 2353. It has gotten steady funding for study under most governments since then. To date, however, nothing has been put in place from it. During the final discussions for the Essex Fighter Academy three weeks ago, I brought it up with Star Fleet, as they now have a right to be concerned about this system's defense. It was their opinion, as well as that of several noted consultants outside the program, the Prometheus Defense Network is outdated, and on some points worse than nothing. Rather than continue along that vain, I recommended the cancellation of Network, and have been preparing a new proposal. With recent events, this new proposal is being overhauled. Our intention is to have a proper defense system in place within two years. Star Fleet has agreed to increase patrols and station a starship in system in the interim."

The member from Thermopylae sat down, and Lancaster stood again. "Madame Speaker, the question is now the floor's."

Several people stood on both benches. "Duchess Norsex," was the Speaker's decision. Dessalines was not surprised that the Speaker chose the Queen's great aunt. The woman was well respected. He expected a moderate attack on the Prime Minister from her, given that she was a fellow Progressive Party Member. Sitting on the heir seat, she could do no more than that. In that seat, her words could be interpreted as coming from the Queen, and no Prime Minister who was personally repugnant to the monarch stayed in power long. Dessalines could, of course, dream of such a tirade, but it wasn't coming.

"Honorable members of this chamber, I find the motion set before us now to be lacking in merit." Dessalines hadn't expected that. He had to fight to keep his disappointment from showing as a mummer went through the government benches. "I was aware of this action before hand, and advised against it. Our only conclusion upon the placement of this motion on the floor is that the Progressive Party Leader has gone mad following the news of his wife's murder, except that his plan was revealed to me shortly after impact." The chamber broke out mummers, which swiftly rose in volume. The Duchess continued, increasing her volume to be heard over it. "I must admit that the idea of using the Opposition's temporary majority to take control has it's appeal, but it is tradition that the loss of a government majority due to an accident has not resulted in a no confidence vote being given. In fact, after the death in office of Prime Minister Zanhung in 2363, his government wasn't challenged until after the current member from Brisbane filled his seat. I cannot recommend this action."

As the Duchess sat down, the chamber broke out into shouts and clamors for attention. "Order, Order," Lady Das said over and over, as her gavel banged against the desk. Dessalnis rose, slowly and deliberately, during the clamor. Finally it died down enough for the Speaker to recognize Dessalines again.

"I find her Grace's use of my recent bereavement to be exceedingly ill advised," Dessalines said. "There is not a member here that hasn't lost someone in recent days. Her Grace now stands alone in her family, having now lost her three brothers. The member from Marinas lost her parents, her sister, and three nieces. The member from Kavindra lost his wife and three-month old daughter. All of members of the Cabinet who were wed are now widows or widowers, as the case may be. As for the Zanhung Government, we were not in a crisis situation when my predecessor died, and his government had been in place for over three years, where the current member from Brisbane has been in office for a little over a month."

Dessalines sat down, satisfied with his return. Several members of the Government rose to respond. None of the Cabinet were chosen though. "The member from Kavindra."

"The member from Port-au-Prince is trying to cover his motives with a cloak of civic responsibility," Kavindra said, in a very strong voice that seemed to fill the room. "That cloak is threadbare. In a Third Amendment Crisis, it is not the ability to maintain a majority and make laws that is important. It is the ability to work with the Queen. The member from Brisbane has demonstrated this. The member from Port-au-Prince is quite unlikely to do this, given his messy divorce of his late wife, the late Princess Mary. However, though the member from Port-au-Prince would have you believe that the choice is between him and the member from Brisbane, it is not. By tradition, the first offer always goes to the leader of party with a plurality in the Commons. That would be the Basque Party, as of now. Every member of that party is new, and has absolutely no experience as members of this House. The member from Brisbane has the best leadership record of anyone sitting here, and now isn't the time to get on a green horse."

There was now some muttering in the Basque back benchers, as Kavindra sat down. Dessalines didn't know who had been chosen as the Basque Party Leader, but soon one rose. "The member from Navarre." Dessalines recognized the man as a long time second in command to the powerful Speaker of the House of Bureaus. A good choice on the part of the Basque, he acknowledged with a nod before the man began to speak.

"I acknowledge the member from Kavindra's statement that as Party Leader for the Basque, I would be the likely person to be called, but the contention of inexperience is baseless. I've served forty years as a steward of the Houses of Basque. I assure you that a Basque-led government would not fail due to lack of experience. Let not that be the reason why you vote that you have confidence in the current Government."

Dessalines stood and was acknowledged by the Speaker. "Madame Speaker, I believe we have discussed this enough. I move that we vote."

The member from Kavindra quickly stood. "I second it."

Lady Das banged her gavel. "Are their any objections?" The chamber remained silent. "So moved. The vote will be party leaders by seat name, then by queue."

Dessalines waited his turn. Since his seat was Port-au-Prince, that put him last, behind Constitutionalist Lancaster from Brisbane, the Unionist Leader from Gdansk, the Consistency Leader from Kashmir, the Independent Leader from Kavindra, and the new Basque Leader from Navarre. He'd never been last before, as the late Liberal Leader had been from Zagreb. Brisbane of course voted nay on the no confidence motion.

"I abstain." That had been unexpected from the Unionist leader. Kashmir voted quickly, but Kavindra prefaced, as was his privilege, his nay with a strong statement of his confidence in the government. Dessalines checked his expected margins, as the Independent Leader concluded his words. Twenty-four to Twenty-one, without Gdansk, was his estimate, if his party held it's line. The Basque leader voted in favor of the no confidence measure, and Dessalines stood to make his own vote in favor. The House of Commons lined up before those who were Lords.

The Basque Leader already had his nineteen at the head of the line. All of them voted in line with their leader. They were now up by eighteen, and the Consistency Party had managed to get in line next. The current leader, Havea Naji, the member from Kashmir, was perhaps the weakest leader they'd had ever. Dessalines acknowledged that was probably the result of the comparison to their last leader, the first Lancaster Prime Minister. Still, the Consistites were perhaps the best possibility for defections from the government. The three government ministers; Ford-of-the-Sheik, Stratford-on-Avon, and Har'dwar; all voted for the government, but that was expected. Dessalines was somewhat disappointed as the three remaining all voted on the government side. Still, his projection was still good, and he still had a thirteen vote lead.

The Constitutionalists managed to get in line next. Dessalines almost yawned as they followed their leader lockstep. The margin was now down to five, and the Independents were up next. This was a possible gain for his side. Bowling Green voted on the government side. He'd hoped that she would break ranks of the loosely organized party. New Kasuto followed her on the party line vote, unusual for the Independents. The margin was now three, with his own party finally up. Marinas and Jamaica increased the margin going into the Lords back to five. As there were just four Lords to vote, he let out a breath. It was passing.

The speaker cast her vote for the Government, as did Lords Kardashev and Singh. Then, as the Duchess Norsex slowly stood, to walk up to the voting podium, each unnecessarily slow step prolonging the vote and the Fifth Lancaster Government with unnecessary agony, the door opened to admit another.

"Madam Speaker, I come to take my seat, as is my right as Delegated Representive to the United Federation of Planets Congress, in our House of Lords," the man asked removing his cloak.

"Please, take your seat, William," the Speaker said. "Our vote of confidence in the government is in progress. Please register your opinion after the Duchess." Dessalines began to tremble. If the Duchess went the party line he was okay ...

"Madame Speaker, I vote nay," the Duchess said. "I, and the Queen have full confidence in the member from Brisbane."

The margin was one. Suddenly, everything depended on this one vote, this vote by Essex's longest serving former Prime Minister. This vote by a man elected to Essex's sole planetary wide post by a eight to one margin. The government of William Lancaster II rested on the opinion of ...

"I vote in nay," William Lancaster I said. Dessalines slumped back against his bench. The son had been rescued by his father.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

It was late by the time Marrissa returned to her flat. The sun was well set, the last glimmer of it's light washed behind the horizon. She'd spent her whole day at the gate towers, and it showed in the dust and grime covering her shorts and top, whose deep blue color had been nearly entirely submerged in that grime. There had been a multitude of injuries for the Enterprise's doctors to attend to, but fortunately no deaths.

Marrissa had taken off her shoes before she started up the stairs to her third floor flat. Letting the soles of her bare feet touch the rich red carpet, she quietly ascended them and opened the solid wood door at the top. The entry room seemed to be empty, so she headed over towards the door to her room.

"I see you finally returned," Counselor Troi said. The Counselor's voice was soft, but carried a bit of an edge. "You said that you'd be back in time to watch Parliament with me. The two hour session has been over for ten hours."

Marrissa turned back towards the voice. The Counselor was seated in a high backed chair that had been moved so it's back was to the door. With her hands on it's arms, the Counselor's position reminded her of her father, seated on the bridge, when he knew something was up. She involuntarily swallowed.

"From your attire, I see you were involved at the gate towers blast scene ... you do realize that you are supposed to be off duty," Troi said, seriously.

"A Star Fleet Officer is always on duty, sir!" Marrissa replied, sharply.

"Marrissa, stop parroting Styles' Guide to Proper Officers," Troi said, placing her hands on the forward edge of the chair and leaning forward. "There is a reason why he was called Styles without Substance. I just have one question, and I want an honest answer without quoting anyone. Did you even stop to think?"

"No, not once the shockwave past and I'd informed the _Enterprise_," Marrissa said. "I just looked around and saw where I was needed. First it was that lady trapped under her cart, which the shock wave had blown over. I helped move it off her and went on from there. I kept going until the Chief sent me here. I couldn't leave anyone trapped. You should have see it when we pulled little Yera from that box in the middle of the explosion. Two three story tall towers destroyed, and right in the middle of the wreckage, we found this little girl with just a little bit of scratches on her and a stubbed toe."

Tears started to form, as Marrissa recalled the scene, and Counselor Troi welcomed the teen girl into her arms, holding Marrissa there for a while. Marrissa let her tears flow, the day's stress going with each drop from her amethyst eyes. For a while they stayed together, Marrissa finding comfort in the Counselor's arms, then Marrissa pulled away a bit.

"I think you better take a bath and get some rest, Marrissa," Troi said, as Marrissa stood back up. "Let yourself soak a bit after you wash in the warm water. You deserve it. Remember that your Great Aunt Clarrissa is coming over tomorrow after Mass."

"Is Clara coming down for that," Marrissa asked, with a hint of anxiousness, as she headed towards the bath, dropping her shoes by her own door. "She's knows Great Aunt Clarrissa, and until last week I didn't even know I had a Great Aunt Clarrissa."

"I don't know, Marrissa," Troi said, standing up. "Last I heard she was still at her father's bedside." Marrissa entered the bathroom, closing the door.

...

The _Enterprise's _main ward was now almost back to normal. Only three critical cases remained. Of those, at the bedside of two of them young girls stood vigil. Or rather sat. Lady Hilda had no legs, and Clara didn't want to remind her. Lady Hilda was by her best friend. Greta was in a very deep coma, and hadn't shown any signs of recovery, yet. Clara held the hand of her father. He'd lost a lot of blood and his digestive system had shut down due to the shock of being cut open with a saber.

At the foot of the two medical beds were two security men, in dress whites. They changed ever two hours, and stood constantly at attention. At first they hadn't been in dress uniform, but the third pair had arrived in the dress whites. They were always armed with a phaser. At first it had just been one group alternating off and on, but by now most of Security had served a shift. The current senior of the two standing guard was a Master Chief, and wore on his right breast the Medal for Valor, and the Star Cross.

Clara had been at her father's side aside from breaks for lunch and being sent back to quarters for rest for three days now. She had changed her uniform, not to the dress whites, but just to a clean one, the last time. She didn't want her father to wake up to find her a mess ... like the family quarters were at the moment.

The entrance door to Sickbay hissed open, and the Security team turned to face it directly, instead of the center of the room. They snapped into a salute as Captain Picard entered Sickbay. He returned the salute, precisely, and said, "At ease, Chief, Crewman."

Clara started to stand, to give her own salute, as she had done with every changing of the guard, once she'd realize what had happened. The Captain shook his head, slight. "How are you doing?" he asked, as he stood between the beds.

"Much better than my father, sir," Clara said. She kept her back straight and her eyes focused on the Captain's. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Nothing at this time, Clara. I think Engineering will be able to get along without you for now," the Captain replied in a calm soft tone, so different than the tones she normally heard him us. "What can we do for you?"

"Nothing," Clara said, glumly. "I'm just sitting here waiting for something to happen. Every time there is a strange beep I jump, attempting to find out what changed. The only times I leave are for meals with Crewman Haxton and when Doctor Picard forces me to go back to quarters to sleep."

"How is Crewman Haxton working out?" the Captain asked. "I understand that Commander La Forge has assigned him as your personal assistant."

"He's okay, I guess," Clara said, reflecting on the fresh from technical school crewman. "He seems to be surprised that he's on the Enterprise."

"He finished top of his class," the Captain said, noting Clara's wrinkled uniform, and the way her left sleeve seemed to be pushed up around her elbow, her right hand playing with it. He'd seen this once before, when Clara and Marrissa had been treated to one of Data's overly detailed full briefing on a planet they were about to visit's history. "I realize that you don't want to leave your father's side, but perhaps you could do me a favor while you're here." Clara nodded. "Commander Riker and Counselor Troi are just about ready to do crew evaluations, and I'm afraid that they need to have the records put in some logical order for them. Normally Commander Riker's Yeoman would preform the task, but we've got him involved in putting some semblance of order into the fragmented records on the planet."

"I can do it, but I'm not sure it will be what Commanders Riker and Troi are used to," Clara said, with another nod. "It's not something I've done before."

"I'm sure that Commander Riker will appreciate what ever you come up with," Captain Picard said as Clara nervously played with her sleeve. "I would recommend a top down approach, myself."

"So they know what openings can be promoted into?" Clara asked, sliding down her sleeve. Picard nodded. "I just need the crew list, right?" He nodded again. "Then I'll be right on it, sir."

"Then I'll leave you to it," Captain Picard said. "Let me know if there is anything I can do for you, Clara. I'm at your family's disposal." Captain Picard took one last look at Clara as he departed Sickbay. She already had found a PADD and was pulling up the list. He hoped the task would be big enough to distract his daughter's friend for a little while.

...

Saint Ignatius of Loyola had turned out to be a bit bigger than Marrissa had expected from the outside. Still, it wasn't as big as the city's Cathedral, and it had a welcoming feel to it. Marrissa had chosen to sit in the third row of the dark wood unpadded pews. Under the pews there was a hard yellow gold wood floor, yet down the aisle and up to the altar there was a golden marbleized stone floor.

She'd arrived just as dawn was breaking over Naverre, the red and gold tinged clouds arching over the bay. Mass wasn't for quite some time, but Marrissa took her seat, then pulled down the red padded kneeler. She kneeled, her dress boots sliding under the pew, and did the sign of the cross. Her hands folded, as she bent her head in prayer.

The prayer was pulled from the depths of Marrissa's memory. She didn't practice her faith as much as she probably should. The thought struck Marrissa as a truth, as her lips moved in a whispered Act of Contrition. The prayer was one that Marrissa deemed as fitting.

After the barely remembered prayer was finished Marrissa let her mind wander. The prayer fresh in her mind, her thoughts started with those who she had wronged. Captain Picard was definitely going to have something to say to her when she returned to the _Enterprise_. She'd be lucky if he let her off the ship again, if he didn't find a way to send her to France and the often mentioned vineyard job. She deserved it, she thought. Since she'd found out about her royal relations she'd been less than she should to a lot of people.

The Queen. While it was true that finding out that she was a royal was a shock to Marrissa, there was no excuse for running out so fast that one knocked the door down in the process. What was worse, was how Marrissa had just used the Queen to get off the Enterprise for a while, like it had never happened. She felt a surge of guilt as she recalled how glibly she had promised to do that statue installation. Now she really wanted to do it, but at the time she'd just said yes to get to the flat.

Then there was the Doctor. Marrissa had to admit that she hadn't been fair to the doctor. The tirade she'd launched right before leaving sickbay had gone way beyond what was justified for her parents concealing their forthcoming blessing.

Finally there was Clara. She had let Clara down the most. When she'd been in Sickbay following saving Clara's father from assassination, she hadn't approached Clara in her vigil. While it was true that Marrissa had been lacking any clothes under her sheet in a misguided attempt at keeping the young girl in Sickbay, that was no excuse for letting Clara drown in her worries, exiting the ship at first opportunity. Clara was her best friend on the _Enterprise-E_, and Marrissa had treated her most shabbily, she concluded.

As Marrissa resolved to do better, the organ swelled, beginning the familiar notes of "Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory." Mass was beginning. After it, and in the peace which it always imparted on her, Marrissa resolved that she would do something to make it up to all of those she wronged. She took up the song and let the Mass's tranquility flow into her.

_Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord_

_He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored_

_He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword_

_His truth is marching on_

...

Captain Jean-Luc Picard surveyed those gathered in the conference lounge as he took his seat at the head of the table. Data and Riker were there, to his left and right respectively, but the rest of those gathered were not members of his crew. Lieutenant Neidviskis was Chief Engineer and Acting Captain of the _Swiftsure_. Captain Johann Tilly of the _Magdeburg _sat opposite him. The last of the Captains of the armed starships orbiting Essex sat at the other end of the table from Jean-Luc, His Holiness Pope Gregory XX.

Jean-Luc did not envy Neidviskis's position. When the Swiftsure had been ordered to depart immediately for Essex, her Captain and first and second officers had not been aboard nor able to return in time. So it was Neidviskis's job as senior officer to command, a man who had taken no command courses, nor served as more than a duty officer in command of the bridge before the day the Swiftsure departed Earth.

Captain Tilly was a Scandinavian beauty, of which many had underestimated. She'd been a freshman at the Academy the year Jean-Luc had graduated, and a young one at that. The years had been very kind to her, and he was certain that the ability to fool those that did not know her that she was all beauty and no brains had not escaped her. Jean-Luc's tactical record score average for simulations his Senior year had only survived three years because of her, unlike the record he'd replaced, which had lasted three decades.

The Pope sat in his traditional white cassock, a gold plated PADD in front of him, his hands crossed over it, his Fisherman's ring glinting in the light streaming in from the windows. The presence of the leader of the Catholic Church was necessary under the excuse created for this meeting.

"Captains, Commanders," Jean-Luc began, pausing for just a second or two to figure out the best term for the Pope, "Holy Father, I apologize for the subterfuge that brought you here today. Though I called this meeting to discuss the relief efforts, I have a more important subject that required some secrecy. We have reason to believe that the impact which brings us here was not naturally created."

Captain Tilly looked straight into Jean-Luc's eyes as she spoke up. Her face was a stern vestige and her tone firm. "Then we have extra-Federation involvement and you suspect a leak somewhere?"

"Yes. Mister Data will explain what evidence we've gathered thus far," Jean-Luc said, as Data stood and moved over to the view screen. "Mister Data." The android activated the view screen, which showed the planet and the known path of the asteroid that had impacted the planet.

"This is Essex, and the short observed path of the asteroid," Data said. "Note that the path is very short, in fact the first observed location is already within the magnetosphere of Essex. Fortunately, the arrival of the Enterprise and successive arrivals of your ships did not overwrite the signature of it's appearance. A scan of the path by the Enterprise's Science Department revealed a definite trace of chroniton particles in sufficient quantities to indicate a catastrophic failure of a cloaking device."

"A cloaking device capable of covering an asteroid the size and shape that the Enterprise's Astrophysics report indicated would be a sufficient task of engineering," Lieutenant Neidviskis said, his hand reaching up to pinch his chin. "We're not talking about off the shelf technology here."

"That was Commander LaForge's conclusion as well," Data said, as the diagram of the planet and it's moons expanded to the binary system overall. "Furthermore, the Astrophysics Department reports that the asteroid's composition is not consistent with bodies within Iota Leonis A, but is consistent with Iota Leonis B's natural satellites, in particular those orbiting the innermost gas giant. This is puzzling, because survey satellites indicate that all of Iota Leonis B II's twenty-three moons are in place."

"What about mass readings?" the Pope said unexpectedly. Captain Tilly's head fairly snapped as she turned towards the Pope.

"Most Holy Father, our data sources does not provide that information," Data responded. The function seems to be disabled on at least three probes stationed near the gas giant."

"We will need to get mass readings to confirm the origin," Jean-Luc said, considering his options. He was sure that what ever orders he gave it would bring everything into the open. It was just a matter of how to break the egg without getting the shell in the frying pan. He couldn't see it not being a trap. He still had to cover Essex, though, so the Enterprise at least couldn't do it, and the _Magdeburg _was just too obvious to go sneaking over to the other star in the binary system. "Commander Riker has some additional information for us though."

Commander Riker leaned forward, looking up and down the table. "I've just been briefed by Chief Nelson about his current investigations into two attacks on the Royal Family of Essex. The first occurred on the planet and resulted in the death of Princess Mary, who at the time was fifth in line for the throne. The second was on the Enterprise, where our Chief of Security stopped an attack that critically injured one of our officers who is forth in line to the throne. We suspect that the attack that she stopped would have concluded with the death of his daughter as well."

Jean-Luc frowned at that reminder of just how close he'd come to losing members of his crew to that sleeper assassin, as Commander Riker picked up his PADD. "In the case of Princess Mary's death, investigation by the Enterprise's Security Staff working for and by the invitation of the Queen, determined that Korax Six Disrupters had been used in the secondary deaths of Princess Mary's staff. These disrupters are known to be used by the Tal Shiar. Initially we could find no link between Princess Mary's death and the asteroid impact. The attack on the Royals on the Enterprise, however, given that Essex under its current state of emergency is governed by the monarch, gave us a very strong suspicion that there was a link between the two."

"Then yesterday afternoon, there was an attack on the residence of another Essex Royal, who has a historical role in the Basque area of the planet. Our conclusion is that Essex is under attack by forces determined to undermine its government. We have suspects, but no one has been implicated enough to arrest yet. On the broader scale, Romulan involvement is highly indicated."

"Essex has a somewhat archaic system of government," Captain Tilly said, looking at Commander Riker, her fingers tapping the edge of the table. "Could this involvement be coupled with an insurrection of disaffected elements of Essex Society? Perhaps someone disenfranchised by the monarchical system?"

Jean-Luc tried not to show his discomfort in the question. He personally had several objections to Essex's governmental organization, not the least of which was the fact that his daughter was next in line to take over the mess if the Queen died, which given recent events was far from unlikely. Still, he had to make an objective response, or at least the best he could under the circumstances. "Johann, since the monarch's powers are strictly limited, save in extreme cases like what appears to be engineered today, I don't see anyone as disenfranchised. Even with the crisis that gave so much power to the Queen, the Prime Minister still has significant power."

"Captain, our chief suspect in Princess Mary's murder is her ex-husband Ely Dessalines," Commander Riker said, looking at Jean-Luc. "He was Prime Minister until a couple months ago and his son is now fifth in line to the throne. And since he doesn't know about Marrissa, or even Hilda's survival, he probably thinks that there are just three people standing between his son and the throne."

The Pope was typing something into his PADD, and Jean-Luc could see his lips moving as if he was saying something. He looked up. "Captains, Commanders, I may actually have something of use here. Like most colony worlds, Essex has a more religious population than Earth. The Catholic Church happens to be the strongest of the organized religions on Essex. While we don't formally have any involvement in Essex's government, besides crowning the monarch, playing the religion card isn't unheard of. Minister Dessalines, according to my sources was on a retreat lead by Bishop Mastai Ferretti along with most of the surviving members of the opposition when the asteroid hit."

"The Government's ministers were also away from the capital at the time, so we can hardly claim the Opposition's absence as a reason," Riker objected, as Jean-Luc absorbed this latest tidbit.

"Ferretti was assistant to Patriarch James V of Essex," the Pope said. "He lived in Londondairy, and I knew Patriarch James ... I'm certain that it took a great deal of effort for Bishop Ferretti to arrange to spend a weekend on the other side of the planet. James wasn't known for letting his assistants go. I doubt the Government had similar hurtles."

"Gregory, if you can find out more about how that retreat came about, it would be very useful," Jean-Luc said. He hadn't expected much from the Pope in the discussion, after all, religious figures were mostly harmless and rarely effective in modern Federation life. He remembered that class at the Academy that he'd taken with the then Catholic Chaplin. Gregory hadn't been half bad. Perhaps dismissing a man because he'd been made Pope was a bit short sighted. "Gregory, is the _Trinity _armed?"

"We've still got seven of her nine phaser banks functional, though I really don't trust the port ventral one. They're all mark eights," the Pope replied. Jean-Luc hadn't expected the _Trinity _to be that well armed. The Enterprise-E had mark twelves, and the D had had tens. "Admiral Epperly personally certified the _Trinity's _engines, saying that our zero to quarter light speed figure is as fast as any ship still in the fleet."

Jean-Luc considered those facts for a moment. He was a bit uncomfortable sending the _Swiftsure _in the role he'd initially ordered, but it had seemed like the best option at the time. Lieutenant Neidviskis was quite inexperienced, and the _Magdeburg _was to high powered to commit to the role. Even basic sensors could accomplish the role of scouting the secondary star of the system, though, and the unasked for assurance of the _Trinity's _speed under impulse gave him a new idea.

"Gregory, are you doing the memorial service in Navarre?" Jean-Luc asked. The Pope nodded. "Would you mind if Commander Riker borrows the _Trinity _to scout out Iota Leonis B?"

"As long as Commander Riker doesn't mind missing my homily," the Pope said, with a smile.

"Lieutenant Neidviskis, I'm reassigning you to quick reaction and scanning," Jean-Luc said looking at the young Engineer. "The _Swiftsure _will move to a high polar orbit and prepare for a quick response to any point in the system where we detect hostile forces. This likely means that you'll be moving to support the _Trinity_, in the event she discovers something. The _Enterprise _will remain in orbit to handle any planetary issues. Johann, the _Magdeburg _is our strategic reserve."

"I suspect that everything is going to break loose the moment we make our moves." Jean-Luc considered that for the moment. It was going to take tight timing, and his forces had to be very ready for everything to work. "Gregory, I'm sending Commander Riker over in a couple hours. We'll run a drill at 0800 hours tomorrow. The memorial service is at 1000 hours, 1200 hours Basque Time. I want the _Trinity _moving out at 0930 hours. There is a good chance that I won't be on the Enterprise when everything starts, and I believe you're also attending the memorial service, Johann. Commander Riker, you'll probably be the senior officer in the initial stages. I believe Lieutenant Commander Data has seniority over your number one, Johann?

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander Danata only has a year in rank," Captain Tilly said, clasping her hands in front of her. "Aside from her, I'm taking my first string to the memorial. We've got quite a bit of depth on the _Magdeburg _at the moment, so it shouldn't be a problem, and I think we need to make sure there is plenty of brass at the memorial. It is a matter of honor."

"Agreed," Jean-Luc replied, going over his list. "I'll be taking most of my command crew, though I don't know if my Chief of Security will arrive in uniform." Noticing the sudden glance from his fellow Commanding Officers, he continued after a pause. "Marrissa is the heir to the throne."

"Isn't Marrissa your adopted daughter's name?" Captain Tilly asked, leaning forward. Jean-Luc nodded. "Jean-Luc, it appears that you've got all the luck."

...

When Marrissa had met Nozomi, she hadn't expected to be sitting next to the rear window of her flat, trying to stay still. Staying still was not something that Marrissa did, but she hadn't been able to contain the enthusiasm of her Great Aunt Clarrissa's great-granddaughter. Marrissa wasn't quite sure what sort of cousin that made Nozomi, though at the moment, she was leaning towards pain in the neck ... as holding the pose wasn't easy. At least she could talk, though it seemed that her Great Aunt was another engineering genius, like Clara, and when Victoria arrived, she'd be one too.

"I'm of the opinion that while Holodecks have their places, all too often they're the cause of more problems that they're worth for daily use," Marrissa stated, sliding back into the conversation that had developed between Aunt Clarrissa and Nozomi. "I realize they're engineering marvels ... but really, the mortality fail safe built in is a joke. I mean, I can turn it off and I'm no Engineer. We shouldn't be designing anything that allows that power ... it shouldn't be able to kill at all."

"You're also Chief of Security, which makes it one of your powers," Counselor Troi said. "In the right circumstances it can be an effective tool. And don't tell me that you haven't used at least one of those enhancements in the new Enterprise's Holodeck. I know better."

"Okay, I raved to Commander LaForge about the improved fluid dynamics," Marrissa said, with a smile. "I like my pool to have some circulation. Anyway, I don't see why you'd need to include anything holographic in a system defense ship."

"So, what do you consider good things to have in a system defense ship?" Aunt Clarrissa asked. She was sitting on the sofa to the right of Marrissa, with a glass of wine in her hand. Marrissa had tasted the vintage that Aunt Clarrissa brought. Judging from her experience, it was a fair choice. "I realize your experiences have been with ships of the line, but surely you have ideas."

"Ships of the line, that might me an understatement," Marrissa said. "The _Enterprises _I've lived on have been big fat luxury yachts ... okay, the E-E is much more of a streamlined power house than the E-D, but still ... They're big, designed to do everything. What do I want in a system defense ship? As a Tactical Officer and former helmsman, I want a fast ship that packs a lot of punch ... everything else is secondary. Nozomi, I need to stretch." Nozomi put down her brush and nodded. "Any chance that I can get a ride in that fighter prototype, or the first production model of yours?"

"You are a fully qualified pilot?" Aunt Clarrissa asked. Marrissa nodded. She'd heard about the hot rod fighter craft that had excited the test pilots evaluating the prototypes submitted to Star Fleet, and had been hoping to get to pilot one some day. "I'll see what I can arrange. It shouldn't be too hard to pull out of the garage."

"Be careful, your grace, putting Marrissa in front of the controls of a small craft and letting her play," Troi began, with a smile as Marrissa stood up and stretched. "Well, the last time Captain Picard let her do that, we didn't see her back on board for six hours, and that was only because she was hungry."

"It runs in the family," Aunt Clarrissa said, moving her wine glass just enough for the red wine to swirl inside. "I remember her father once borrowing Prince John's air car for a little spin, when he was about fourteen. My youngest brother, may the lord rest his soul, was always trying to make that air car preform better, and with it's stream lined lines and flames painted on the side, everyone wanted to drive it. Mother always said that it would get him killed one day. Anyway, somehow little Georgie, your father, Marrissa, got the keys to the Robin, and took off from the Retreat down to the Sheik Caynon. Hours later, King George realizes that he hadn't seen the boy for quite some time."

"Now, you should know one thing about my brother, the late King, and his parenting," Clarrissa said, putting down the drink after taking a last sip. "When he said no, it means never, and Georgie had been told that he was not allowed to even touch the Robin. Don't think that Georgie didn't have Prince John's permission for this little joy ride, but in the King's mind, not even Prince John should ride in what he referred to as an over charged, over powered, dangerous, death trap. He was probably right."

"Anyway, the King wonders about where Georgie is, and sees the look on John's face. Immediately he turns to John and asks were the Robin is. John tells him that he sent the car home. Just as he's saying this, there is this sonic boom outside. It seemed that Georgie had started on his way back and realized that he'd spent too long. Ten minutes later, he's landing the Robin behind the Retreat, hoping that his father didn't know. He did of course, and Georgie couldn't sit down at dinner time as a result."

"The next day there was an article in the Londondairy Times about 'Prince John's Sheik Canyon Test.' The King was furious with Georgie. It was a good thing he'd departed for school before old George had time to pick up the paper."

"Remember that picture of Prince George in the Londondairy Times you showed me the other day?" Nozomi said.

"The one where he was rescuing that kitten stuck on the end of the minute hand of the Bank Clock Tower, or the one where Prince George flew the sky-sled with the dragon hologram down Harrington Street?" Clarrissa asked.

"Both," Nozomi said. "Marrissa, I think I've got enough done so you don't need to get back in the pose. Thanks." Marrissa smiled.

"Now that we've satisfied the demands of the artist," Clarrissa said, pulling a packet out of her purse, "Perhaps you'd like to look at these family pictures I picked up?"

Marrissa slid onto the sofa, and began looking at each picture as they were passed to her, the circumstance it was taken in and who was in it explained as Clarrissa handed it to her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

The day had begun for Marrissa with the arrival of the Queen at her flat, not that she'd realized that it was the Queen at the time. Her voice hadn't actually been that loud, but as dawn had approached, Marrissa's sleep had lightened. The simple discussion of tea types between the Queen and Counselor Troi had been enough to rose Marrissa from her sleep and out of her room in the flat, the room that was quickly becoming her own.

On the wall where she would see it when she woke up was a large picture of the Bridge of the Enterprise with the current Command Crew standing around her father, who was seated in the Captain's chair. The bed had been against that wall, but with the way the mullioned windows cascaded sunlight in the morning across it, Marrissa had decided that she didn't need the bed there for the reason her father had put it there. She didn't need to get up at six hundred hours every morning, she was on leave. She glanced at the chronometer, a very accurate one, and as Great Aunt Clarrissa had told her, very expensive, model that used to be on top of the roll top desk. It was six hundred hours, local time. She groaned. So far she had only been able to sleep in once.

Given that today was really the first day that she had an excuse not to go on her morning run, Marrissa had thought she'd sleep in. She got up from the bed, slipping her new night gown over the lose shift she'd been convinced to wear to bed, and exited her room. Her room was next the kitchen, and she stumbled into it, still not quite awake. Some how a cup of her recently discovered favorite tea, heavily creamed, with a teaspoon of strawberry juice, found it's way into her hand. She sipped it as she stood next to the replicator, letting the warm liquid wake her up with each sip.

"So, are you prepared for today," Victoria asked. The Queen had apparently just arrived as a dress in it's plastic storage drape was lain over the back of on of the kitchen chairs. "I've arranged for the carriage to leave from here."

"I think so," Marrissa responded after a deep sip. "I've got my dress, I'll just put my hair up, put it on and I'll be ready to go." She noticed that Troi and Victoria were exchanging a look.

"Please tell me that the art of preparation isn't totally lost in Star Fleet," Victoria said, putting down her own tea cup on the nearby counter. "I don't expect the Engineers, grimy folk they are, but at least a Captain's daughter should know how to prepare to knock the boys off their feet."

Troi's smile seemed to worry Marrissa a bit, as Troi replied, "I'm afraid that Marrissa has always been a bit of a tomboy, and living for the last year with the Captain hasn't helped. I'm certain we can remedy that lack of training today. As for the boys, unless I miss my guess, she's already well on her way to capturing the boy she's set her sights on."

"I have not set my sights on Jay," Marrissa said, feeling her face get warm. Jay was just her best friend, even if they had kissed.

"Did I say anything about Jay?" Troi asked, looking at Victoria, who shook her head. "Now that you mention it, I do seem to recall an incident with a certain Lieutenant j.g. Jay Gordon of the _Independence _a few weeks ago. Perhaps you might recall him, blond hair, blue eyes, about four centimeters taller than you. His parents served on the _Enterprise-D_ since she was commissioned. I think I recall him delivering a rather passionate kiss at the time." Marrissa certain her face was red now. "If I'm not mistaking the recipient of that kiss is standing in front of us, your majesty."

"Oh really," Victoria said. "I assume he is an officer and a gentleman?" Marrissa shot a look of warning to Troi, willing her to read the thought that she didn't want to discuss Jay.

"An officer, at least," Troi responded. "We'll have to get more from Marrissa later to determine the gentleman part. After all she's been best friends with the boy since they were toddlers. I think we'll have to do something with the hair first."

"Yes, the ponytail has to go," Victoria stated, moving to look at Marrissa at another angle. "It's long enough for some cascading waves." The Queen assessed. "It should go just about a decimeter down her back, right?" Marrissa nodded in confirmation. It looked like for the moment the topic of Jay was pushed aside.

For the next hour they worked on each other's hair, or rather they worked on Marrissa's hair and their own. Marrissa had nothing to contribute to the discussion. She hadn't had any real preparation for something where she had to dress up outside of her uniform, save one junior dance which Jay had taken her to back before her parents had died. Even then, her hair had remained up in that ponytail and the only fuss had been over her choice of dress.

This time they washed her hair and styled it, using curlers and something called a hot iron, which Marrissa thought was a tad dangerous. The dress she'd chosen was pronounced entirely unsuitable, and the next thing she knew Senora Tivara had come up from her shop below. With pins, needles and fast sketches, which Marrissa only caught by glances, a new dress emerged from her hands.

Through it all, the Queen was in charge, with the able assistance of Counselor Troi. Each bit of change, each alteration, came at her suggestion, and Marrissa found herself yielding to them. Finally her hair was done, her makeup, another new experience for her, done, and the dress was on.

The mirror was slid in front of Marrissa for the first time that day, and Marrissa looked from her feet upwards at the changes that had been made. Her boots had been replaced with two-inch heals, one of her few victories. She'd never worn heals before, and anything higher would have been too much, as Counselor Troi had agreed. The dress was darkest black, with a crimson pattern that swirled up from the floor to caress her breasts. Under that dress, she had very comfortable black lace underwear, supporting and lending a bit of volume to her small chest. The dress ended in the same collar as her first Star Fleet Uniform had, with golden buttons, the shape of the old Earth United Kingdom Army insignia for her rank on both sides.

Then there was her hair. Marrissa had always kept her hair in simple styles, ones that were easy to put up and get on duty. It was not something she had ever really considered. At the Queen's and Troi's insistence, she had let them style her hair, making it cascade in locks, down over her shoulders, rippling like golden waves breaking over the rocks. Troi stepped in front of her for a moment and added one last item, a sliver tiara that kept the hair back. Taking in her image, she had to admit that she looked like the Princess she was.

Her father had always called her his little Princess, and she'd loved the way he did it, but until she'd arrived at Essex and spent some time on the planet, she hadn't realized exactly what a Princess was. In her mind it had been of a parasite, a clothes horse, going from function to dance, doing nothing other than being a pretty thing to look at on the Prince's arm.

Marrissa had never really seen the value of dressing up nice. She had always been a rough and tumble type of girl. She played soccer with her dad and her friends, often coming back with her clothes in a state that dismayed her mom. True, mom had been a Security Officer as well. She'd got the tomboy nature honestly from both sides.

Essex had been an eye opener for Marrissa. She'd seen the hard work that the monarchy, especially that of the Queen was putting in during the aftermath of the crisis. The Duchess, despite the Duchess's attempts at getting Marrissa to call her Aunt Clarrissa, Marrissa couldn't call her anything other than the Duchess, had supplied her with tales of the family doing it's duty in between the normal every day family things. The Duchess had been sister to two Kings that had served Essex until tragedy stuck them. Marrissa had asked why she still was an ardent monarchist, and the Duchess had replied with her statement that "duty should not cave in the light of tragedy, it should become firm with resolve."

As Marrissa took in her dress one more time, she heard the door opening behind her. "Your Majesty, your carriage awaits." She quickly identified the voice as that of the Duchess. "You better get into your dress quickly." Marrissa turned to see the duchess entering the room as the Queen hurried into the next room. "Did you have time to look over the defense proposal I sent you last night?"

"Yes, we'll talk in the carriage," the Queen replied before the door slammed shut. The Duchess was already dressed in her black lace dress, which like Marrissa's was highlighted with crimson, but as an underside layer, not as part of the pattern.

"Well, Marrissa, I see that they pulled no stops this morning with you," the Duchess said. "I take it that you haven't been informed as to exactly how we're getting to the memorial service?" Marrissa shook her head, resulting in the unaccustomed feeling of her hair moving across her shoulders. "Traditionally, the Royal Family arrives at these events by carriage pulled by horses. Finding a carriage to borrow proved to be a bit harder than expected, but I have managed to get one that will seat the four of us. The Etxearen Erregela Jaun, who happens to be my son-in-law, fortunately had one to spare, and was with a bit of prodding, willing to let us use the better one. Since his daughter lives next door, we've decided that the Act Building on Settlement Street would be a good place to start off our precession. We'll be heading down Settlement Street, to turn onto Princess Kaihime Avenue, which ends like the other Seven Princess Avenues at the plaza in front of the Cathedral of Saint Domingo de Guzman."

"May I ask why the strange mix of Asian Princesses, English Monarchs, and Basque Saints?" Marrissa said, genuinely curious. Her history searches on Essex had focused on the government and broad outlines of the history.

"The Seven Princesses aren't really Asian," the Duchess said, checking Marrissa's dress. "King Charles II's wife did have a bit of Asian blood in her, but not much. She did, however develop a fascination with Japanese names after she and then Prince Charles were rescued by the _Columbia_ NX-02. The Columbia at the time was under her fifth Captain, from whom Charles II's first daughter and successor received her first name, which she reigned under. The name of Dawn Princess, Asahime, was actually quite fitting of Essex's first native born royal."

"Charles II ... wasn't he the King that was his father's Prime Minister for a while?" Marrissa asked. She'd felt that was nepotism at first, when she'd noticed that on the list, but after a bit of delving into the King's record a Prince and Prime Minister, the judgement had changed. The third King of Essex had been one of those classic Renaissance Men, intelligent, capable, and deserving of a bigger place in the history books than as a Head of State for a small then colony world.

"Yes, and his seven daughters are the reason why there are Basque on this, Essex's largest island." While they waited for the Queen to put on her dress, the Duchess told Marrissa the tale of the Seven Princesses of Essex and how they'd rescued the Basque following the tragedy that had befallen them in their native land along Earth's Bay of Biscay. She told of Kaihime, the Forgiving Princess, who had protected the little boy whose playing in the abandoned terrorist bunker had triggered the holocast of the land. She told of Narihime, the Gentle Princess who had lead the relief effort, and cared for the orphans and those without family after the tragedy. She told of Masahime, the Honest Princess, who had arranged for the transport. She told of Chikahimi, the Wise Princess, who had quietly paved the way for the Basque on Essex. She told of Tamihime, the People's Princess, who spent her life working to make the Basque on Essex welcomed by all. And lastly, she told of Yukihime, the Snow Princess, who as the youngest had little to give, but gave so much with her smile and laughter.

As they finally descended the stairs to the street, Marrissa wobbling on her unaccustomed heals, Marrissa had a new appreciation for what it meant to be a Royal of Essex. It was an ancient line, whose first throne had been William I, the Conqueror of England in 1066. It had paid for many lessons in blood of others, and their own. Historically it was matchless, and it was obvious to Marrissa that the duty was both bred into and well taught to the family line. If duty was a genetic trait, the monarchs of Essex had shown it in spades, from the first King, who had lead the fledgling colony from underneath the cloud of an erupting volcano like a modern Moses, to the current Queen, who put long hours in trying to make sure all her people's needs were covered in the wake of the near total destruction of her government and its bureaucracy.

As she climbed into the carriage she could see the royal motto below it's simple rampant lion shield. "Officium Accredo," it stated. Duty accepted wholeheartedly, a motto that Marrissa felt she could and should take as her own. As an officer in the fleet, or as a princess, it mattered not. Duty was something the family shared, both her families, the Captain and the Doctor in the stars and the Royal Family around her.

...

Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood in the narthex of the Cathedral of Saint Domingo de Guzman. The narthex was filled with the wandering members of Parliament, awaiting the arrival of the Queen at the Memorial Service. He was looking for one particular man in the sea of black suits and dresses, intermixed with the dress white uniforms of Star Fleet. Finally he spotted the man, and walked over to him.

"Mister Dessalines?" Jean-Luc said to the tall man. Jean-Luc took a quick assessment of the man, deciding that the assessment of the Prime Minister concerning the man was befitting. The man was a politician of no small ability, but something about him told Jean-Luc that this man wasn't a man to be trusted. Maybe it was the man's walk, or perhaps the way he stood with his right hand massaging his left elbow. It didn't matter, Jean-Luc didn't need the man to be trust worthy. Better if he wasn't actually.

"Captain?" Ely began, his eyes darting to the rank pips on Jean-Luc's collar. "What can I do for you?" Jean-Luc was surprised that the man needed to double check the rank before addressing him. Surely the man should know on sight the Captain of the Federation Flagship, the vessel which had come to his planet's rescue.

"Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise, sir," Jean-Luc said, slipping into the role which he judged best worked with the Opposition Leader. "You're the Leader of the Progressive Party and father of Lord Martin Sussex?" Ely nodded. "We just informed the Queen a few minutes ago, and since it directly impacts your son and you are the leader of the Queen's Loyal Opposition..." The term almost stuck in Jean-Luc's throat. "... early this morning Lieutenants Daniel and Clarrissa Sutter, Prince and Princess of Essex passed away as a result of injures incurred serving the Federation. Your son just took two steps closer to the throne."

Jean-Luc watched as the man his face was drawn in sadness, the frown and slight change to the nose was almost perfect ... but the eyes, to an experienced Captain like Jean-Luc Picard, the eyes told all. He couldn't describe it, there was just something about the set that said, triumph!

"Excuse me Captain, but I need to call and let my staff know ... I'll hold off telling Martin until after the service," Ely said. "Clara was one of his favorite cousins, and I think I should be the one to tell him." Jean-Luc filed away that piece of information, as Ely stepped away and brought out his communications device. Jean-Luc could barely hear Ely say, "He's Halifax, be prepared for ascension soon."

The last bit triggered something in Jean-Luc's mind. Prince or Princess of Halifax was the title automatically granted to the heir to the Essex throne, he'd learnt. Marrissa now held that title, whether she liked it or not, and Jean-Luc was leaning towards not. Mister Dessalines had something planned, soon, and Jean-Luc wasn't going to count on the Opposition's hand not being a Royal Flush. He tapped his badge. "Picard to _Enterprise_."

"_Enterprise_," Lieutenant Commander Data's firm android voice responded. "Is there a problem, Captain?"

"There might be, soon, Mister Data," Jean-Luc said, observing the crowded narthex beginning to get organized at the direction of the Master of Ceremonies. "I want you to keep a lock on the Queen and Marrissa, as well as maintain a full scan of the Cathedral."

"Understood, Captain," Data replied. "I have the network feed of the Cathedral Sanctuary on the main screen."

"Any update from Commander Riker?" Jean-Luc asked, as he took his place in line at the head of the Star Fleet delegation. The red brick in front of him had a number twenty two on it, right next to the door that the Queen would be arriving through in minutes. He really hadn't expected anything yet. The Trinity wasn't scheduled to be in clear scanning range for another thirty-one minutes.

"No sir," Data replied. "The border patrol records you asked for are in. I've updated all commands on the possibilities."

"Very good, Commander. Picard out." The doors were opening now, and through them Jean-Luc could see a horse drawn carriage coming to a stop. It was a classic black carriage with large windows. The angle was bad, so he couldn't see who was in it, until the footman lowered the step and began helping the ladies within out. First to exit was the Queen, followed by the Duchess of Norsex and her granddaughter Nozomi, all dressed in black.

Last to exit was a young lady that Jean-Luc didn't recognize at first. Her long blond hair descended in waves to her shoulders. She wore a simple, yet elegant silver tiara to control her hair. Unlike the others, her black dress of morning was accented by a crimson pattern that drew attention to and accented her bust. The lady seemed a bit unsure in her step at first, watching her step as she ascended the steps to the door, on the Queen's right. It was only when she reached the top that she looked up and Jean-Luc caught the dazzling smile of his daughter.

Jean-Luc couldn't believe how much more mature his daughter looked with her hair down and that form fitting dress. Her normal high ponytail made her look a lot younger than she was, this did the opposite and revealed a beauty that until now, Jean-Luc had not seen. As she crossed the threshold, her left heal got caught on it, and she started to fall. Jean-Luc caught her.

...

Queen Victoria I of Essex wished her first public duty as Queen hadn't been a memorial service. It was a wish that had been shared by many of her predecessors, a wish given the nature of succession that was never going to be met. The Essex Monarchy had tragedies before, ascensions that happened all too soon. Her great-grandfather George II had been just nine when his father died, and died when his own eldest son Richard was the same age of heat stroke. King Richard I had been the worst of the funerals until now. His coffin had been closed due to how he'd been shot by that deranged insane Cardassian War Veteran. He'd been buried beside his five daughters, also killed by the assassin, and his two day old successor, the baby King George III.

Her grandfather had once told her that he hoped that Essex would never have another tragedy like that family picnic. It had driven King George IV to private morning for years, and even with grandchildren, he still had times of sadness when he passed the picture of his eldest brother in the Parliament's Grand Hall. His generation had been the one of grief for the Royal Family, and his own death had been accompanied by a tragedy the likes of which the Federation itself had never seen.

So, Victoria walked down the center aisle of the Cathedral of Saint Domingo de Guzman, dressed in black, trying to hold back tears. There wouldn't even be a body to bury. The whole royal family, save herself, her cousin Hilda, and those following behind her had been vaporized, their atomized remains only marked by the miles wide crater that had replaced the center of Londondairy. As she reached the pew she was to sit in, the tears overwhelmed her. She kneeled and did the sign of the cross, before taking her seat in the front pew on the left side of the altar.

Behind her, she could hear her family doing likewise, as Barber's Adagio for Strings, the song of mourning, filled the air. The family was so small now that those in attendance barely filled the front row, and that only because the Etxearen Erregela Jaun filled the right side front pew with his young children and granddaughter.

Directly behind her were the Star Fleet Officers. Captain Picard's wife reached up to her and handed her a white handkerchief, so Victoria could wipe her tears from her cheeks. She nodded her thanks before bowing her head in prayer as the dignitaries and politicians paraded in. She let her grief overwhelm her for a moment, wishing that William was there to comfort her, like he'd been there for the nights since the Impact.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Sprit, Amen," the Pope's voice focused Victoria on the altar, as he began the Mass of Remembrance. "We are gathered here today by tradition and shared grief. Today is the day, and now is the hour for which we let loose our grief, unbind its restraint, and poor it upon the world following the deed which has humbled this world and brought to a premature end to so many of her people. We are gathered here today to remember not only the King, a gentle man of science who humbled himself in service to his kingdom, but to others. We gather to remember Heather Natchez, age six, only in the first grade with her life ahead of her. We gather to remember Nicholas Flamel, an old man known for his crotchety comments about the noise those young kids made, but who always had a lollypop for them when they passed his bench in the park. We gather to remember Lord Byron Hayfield, noted scholar, politician, and humorist. We gather to remember Commodore Joseph Shortbottom-Smit and his command, leader of Essex's Self Defense Force, sadly caught on the ground when the asteroid hit. We gather to remember all the men, women, and children, some ten million names that will never get to live their lives to the fullest. We gather in prayer, and remembrance, today, for them. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Sprit, Amen."

As the chorus took up the kyrie, Victoria noticed that Marrissa, who had been seated beside her, wasn't quite paying attention to the Pope. Instead her gaze seemed to be actively moving around the church, as if she was expecting something to happen at any moment. As the Mass progressed, Marrissa's gaze grew more active, and seemed to focus on the structures to the right and left of the altar, then, just as everyone stood to sign the alleluia, her gaze centered on the balcony to the right of the altar.

The clear young girl's voice rang out as she pushed Victoria to the floor, drawing a phaser that Victoria had not known her heir possessed, "Get down!" As Victoria was driven the floor by Marrissa's strong push she could see the green beam passing through where she'd just been, it's edge just catching the shoulder of her heir. Marrissa's phaser returned fire, the red lance of the phaser barely managing the catch the edge of the balcony where the shot had come from.

Apparently, Marrissa wasn't the only one armed, as two other phaser shots issued from the ranks of Star Fleet Officers filling the four pews behind the front row on the left, as Captain Picard's voice rang out, "Mister Data, beam them to Sickbay. Now!" The world dissolved in the haze of a transporter beam.

...

Marrissa was beginning to dislike Sickbay. Actually hate might be a better term for that. It had started with her first pelvic examine when she was ten, but after spending three days naked under a sheet recovering a week ago, it had risen to new levels. Yet once again, she'd ended in Sickbay again, this time with a scorched wound on the shoulder that hadn't been effected last time.

"Ow!" Marrissa said, as Doctor Selar ran the dermal regenerator across the scorched wound. Her left shoulder had been the most injured previously, and had been just a bit tender even before the disrupter fire had grazed it again. Marrissa was sure that it had been a disrupter this time, probably Romulan. The distinctive green hue grazing her was not something she was going to forget.

"Stay still, Lieutenant," Doctor Selar ordered, as she moved the regenerator across where her ruined back dress had been carefully pealed away. "It will just be another couple minutes if you stay still, and I promise this time, your uniform is waiting."

"Good," Marrissa replied. She looked up at the Queen, still in her black dress, standing next to Lieutenant Sutter's bed. "How is Clara's father doing?" Clara was sitting on the other side, her hand entwined with her father's.

"Lieutenant Daniel Sutter is improving, gradually," Doctor Selar said, as Marrissa noticed Clara finally looking up. "His injuries are healing well, and his digestive track should be resuming function shortly."

"Marrissa! What happened?" Clara exclaimed, standing up. Marrissa smiled back at her, then winced as Doctor Selar passed over a particularly sensitive spot.

"I got shot," Marrissa replied, simply. "Romulan disrupter at about twenty meters, I think." She had to resist the urge to shrug.

"Modesty becomes you, cousin," Victoria said. Marrissa turned to focus her attention on the Queen, resulting in Doctor Selar firmly moving her shoulder back where she wanted it. "Clara, it seems that Marrissa spotted someone about to open fire on me, pushed me over, and took the shot herself."

"I suppose that you're going to call this just doing your job again, like you did with saving Dad?" Clara said. The younger girl practically glared at Marrissa, moving around the bed to approach Marrissa. Marrissa nodded. "Marrissa, you saved my Dad's life, fighting a man armed with a sharpened sword, when you had no way to do more than defend yourself with yours. You were injured and kept going..."

"It is my duty as Chief of Security to see to the protection of all the _Enterprise's _compliment from people like that man," Marrissa said, firmly. "My posting as that may be stupid, and you can bet that I wish that I had almost any other post on this ship, but as long as it's my job, it's my duty and I'm going to do it to the best of my ability."

"Marrissa, if I'm not mistaken, you were off ship and off duty when you saved me," Victoria said, softly. "I saw where that beam hit. It would have killed me. Don't say it was your duty and undeserving of praise. Officium Accredo may be the royal motto, but even adherence to that motto deserved praise."

Marrissa felt tears forming in her eyes. "But I can't get formal recognition, not as long as I serve under my father's command. It's better if I deny it all. Better if everyone just sees me as a girl who does her job. I shouldn't draw attention to myself, it will only cause Father problems, especially the way Admiral Decker is hounding him. Letting everyone know that Father keeps his almost fourteen-year-old daughter under his command, serving as a full Lieutenant will just make things even worse, and now the Press will be aware. I'll have to leave the _Enterprise_. I don't want to leave the _Enterprise_. I don't want to leave the Captain and the Doctor. I don't want to leave my father."

Marrissa broke down in tears, her head cradled in her hands, as Doctor Selar stepped away. As she cried, the Queen and Clara moved to her side. They gently leant her their strength, hugging her as she sat on the end of the bio bed. Marrissa sat there in tears for a while, feeling the comfort of her cousins.

"Marrissa, if you'll let me, I'll try to help you with the press," Victoria said, her comforting arm still around Marrissa. "My father's press office was in Halifax Village, and survived. It's very good. I'm certain we can spin things to make everything land were we want it. As for taking you from the Enterprise, I promise to prevent that as long as I'm alive."

Marrissa looked up into the Queen's eyes, seeking hope in the amethyst depths that matched her own. With a sniffle, she straightened up, accepting the promise in them, and the hope it represented. "Thank you, your majesty."

"You're welcome, your highness," the Queen responded in turn, as the door to Sickbay's main ward opened. "Now, I believe you need to get out of that ruined dress and into uniform. If I'm not mistaken, Chief Nelson is here for a bit of a briefing."

"I am indeed," Chief Nelson replied as he came to a stop in front of the royals. "Though I think it might be advisable to wait until your breast is covered, Lieutenant. Some might find it distracting." Marrissa looked down, and realized with the way her dress had been pealed back, it was hanging from one shoulder, revealing her entire left breast. She quickly took the offered uniform. She looked around and couldn't spot anywhere to dress behind.

"Tory and I will hold up a sheet for you, Marrissa," Clara offered, noticing her best friend's glances. "I think you can start the brief once she's behind the sheet, though, Chief."

"I understand that you are fourth in line to the throne," Chief Nelson began. Marrissa saw Clara's nod just before Clara and the Queen raised the sheet from the bio bed to block everyone's view of her changing. "Then perhaps I better start a bit further back, as you are quite likely to get caught up in this as well."

"Hilda, I think you need to hear this as well," Victoria said as Marrissa carefully unfastened and stepped out of her dress. It was a shame that it had been ruined. Marrissa had liked the way she'd looked in it. "Chief, this is Lady Hilda, second in line for the throne, just after your Lieutenant."

"Lady Hilda, Your Majesty, Lieutenants," Chief Nelson began. Marrissa could hear in his voice that the Chief was trying to figure out where to start. "Let me begin with the assurance that Captain Picard and Prime Minister Lancaster have everything under control in the aftermath of your majesty and the Lieutenant's timely exit. There was a brief bit of confusion following your beam up, as was to be expected in the aftermath of an assassination attempt."

"Understood, Master Chief Nelson," Victoria said, as Marrissa folded up her dress and contemplated not changing the black lace panties for the more sensible ones that topped the stack of uniform parts. "I am most interested, however the investigation into the causes of the most recent tragedies to hit our planet."

"Understood, your majesty," Chief Nelson said, as Marrissa began switching her panties, having decided that a fresh pair might be a good idea. "Starting then with our investigation into the asteroid itself, we have reason to believe that the asteroid was cloaked until just before it hit the atmosphere. The geologists and stellar cartographers on the _Enterprise _have furthermore determined that the material composing the asteroid came from the companion star's gas giant's moons. At 0930, Commander Riker, temporarily commanding the _Trinity _began a discreet course to investigate, arranging the Trinity's departure course to match that of one to visit Beta Rigel, where apparently the Catholic Church maintains a monastery of some note. We expect a report from him at any moment."

Chief Nelson paused a moment, the last bit of his line slightly muffled by the uniform turtle neck sliding over Marrissa's ears. "In the matter of Princess Mary's death, and Lieutenant, you'll find all the material on this on your desk, we believe that there is Romulan involvement, in particular with the accessary deaths of her staff. One of the weapons used has been identified as that used by the Tal Shiar. However, the primary suspect remains her ex-husband, former Prime Minister Ely Dessalines. We believe he may be our common thread between the recent incidents, so we have not asked for an arrest warrant yet."

Marrissa sat down on the bio bed to pull on her boots, following her uniform jumpsuit. "Shortly before the attack on Lieutenant Daniel Sutter, Mister Dessalines was on a local video show that was broadcast from Naverre. During this show he made a point as to how threadbare the Royal Family's line of succession was at the moment, listing what he believed remained. As he listed the Sutters, his hand moved to his Adam's apple which he ran his index finger across, in a cutting motion, obscure as if it was an ordinary motion on his part. But the motion was only made during two names. This would not have caught our attention, save that it was one of the few planet side broadcast that Crewman Simmons is known to have watched. We probably wouldn't have caught that even then if Crewman Ericsen hadn't been going over it with a fine tooth comb on her own initiative."

Marrissa pulled her hair out from under the jumpsuit and zipped it up. "Chief, if you haven't already, put Sandy in for a commendation. That was good work. You can put away the sheet Clara, Tory." She adjusted the communicator a bit, as the sheet came down. "I think we've got enough to arrest Mister Dessalines on that point alone. May I assume we're just awaiting confirmation of the earlier half of the affair?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," Chief Nelson replied.

"Clara, Hilda, I assume that you'd like to stay here?" Marrissa asked. The two nodded. "Then, Your Majesty, perhaps you'd like to accompany me to the Bridge? I have a feeling that Lieutenant Commander Data may need me in a professional capacity shortly."

...

Commander William T. Riker surveyed the Bridge of the _Trinity_. It still had what was known in Star Fleet as Kirk era configuration, which was not surprising given that it was originally commissioned as the _USS Appomattox _NCC-1865 back when Kirk was still commanding the NCC-1701. It had, of course, been refurbished for the Pope. This had resulted in a bridge whose colors were not the black, white and grey, but a golden yellow, with rich walnut railings, polished gold fittings, and ornate labels above each station. The command chair he sat it was quite comfortable, more so than any chair on the _Enterprise_, than any chair he'd sat in during the time he'd served.

There was a nun at the helm, and a priest sat next to her at operations. When he'd come on board, Riker had been worried about the competence of the officers of the _Trinity_. That was before he became reacquainted with the helms woman, who had been at the Academy with him, before her faith had led to her dropping out to pursue a religious life. She'd recognized him, though it took a little bit for him to drag up the memory. Sister Stephanie, as she now went by had been top of her class, and Riker only a few tenths of a point behind her, when she'd dropped out. She'd introduced him to the rest of the Bridge Crew, and Riker had grown amazed at the core of veterans that the Pope had assembled.

The tactical officer had served with distinction during the last Cardassian War, retiring, having been acting captain of his own ship. Riker had spent his breakfast with Lieutenant Commander Daniels, retired, now a Franciscan friar, listening to his tales of that war. He'd some how acquired the nickname of Tuck since he'd entered the order. Father Sebastian at operations had actually taught at the Academy for a couple semesters, following his serious injury in that same war. Manning Communications, a separate station on a ship of that era, was the Cardinal Archbishop Elbam whose official job was apparently something to do with Liturgical Translations, who apparently could say Mass some insane number of languages. Finally there was the young novice manning the sensors at the Science Station. Deacon Joseph was apparently the one that got away from Star Fleet. He'd failed his exam to entry the Academy by one hundredth of a point, and turned to the church. The Pope had swiftly grabbed the young man for his newly purchased starship, and he'd been serving aboard her ever since.

"Entering scanning range for our target in thirty seconds," Daniels announced. Riker turned his chair to face the Science Station.

"Tuck, keep a finger on those shields," Riker ordered. "Deacon Joseph, are you ready?"

"Yes, Commander," Deacon Joseph replied. "I've set up the scan, and but I think we've got another problem. Tuck, put one oh two mark six on screen."

Riker swivelled back, and caught a ripple passing through the stars. "Red Alert, shields up, all hands to battle stations," he ordered. "Cardinal, alert the _Swiftsure_."

"Commander, I've got another one," Deacon Joseph reported, as the lights dimmed into battle red. "And mass readings are confirmed. It was from the seventh moon."

"Two Romulan vessels decloaking to the port and starboard!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Commander William T. Riker was a seasoned commanding officer, despite the long time he'd spent as first officer. He was quite comfortable in the command chair, having sat there many times during battle. He'd faced the Federation's greatest enemies of his era ... just never before in quite this situation.

The _Trinity _shook as one of the Romulans took a firing pass. They were what Star Fleet called Ravens, probably from their distictive black hull, atypical for the Romulans. The Romulan designation of the Excelsior sized starships had proved to be a tongue twister once it had been discovered. He was keeping the Trinity moving, heading towards Essex, as his relief caught up with him.

"Thirty percent weakness in our Starboard aft shields, attempting to compensate," Father Meloria said from his seat to the right of the helm.

"Helm, give me a barrel roll," Riker ordered. "Let's make it hard to hit that spot. ETA on help?" The Trinity was weaving, trying to avoid the incoming fire's right of way as it returned with steadfast intensity.

"Right about now, sir!" Tactical announced, as the _Swiftsure _suddenly appeared on screen. The experimental test bed was proving that it wasn't just designed for speed, cutting across the Trinity's path. One of the Romulan Ravens seemed to flinch back as a full load of quantum torpedoes and a broadside of phasers hit it as the _Swiftsure _dove into the battle.

Behind the Swiftsure, breaking to the starboard, was the _Magdeburg_. The Nebula Class starship was more than a match for the _Trinity's _opponents. A spread of torpedoes left the ship, pattern Sierra, Riker identified, and bracketed the other Romulan, causing it's shields to flare green.

"Helm, hard about, form up behind the _Swiftsure_," Riker ordered, as the Romulans twisted away from the oncoming Star Fleet vessels. "_Trinity _to _Magdeburg _and _Swiftsure_, your targets are designated Alpha and Beta, respectively." The Romulans began to beat a rapid retreat towards Iota Leonis B, and found the Star Fleet vessels merciless on their tails.

...

Queen Victoria's first view of the bridge gave her chills. Just as the turbolift bearing her and Marrissa arrived, and the doors opened, she heard the order, "Red Alert!" The bridge quickly dimmed into a red hue, as the tones announce the status rang out. Marrissa stepped past her, heading to her station. The Queen stepped out behind her, noting that Captain Picard was on the view screen and the android, Data, was seated in the center seat.

"Force analysts says that the _Trinity_, _Swiftsure_, and _Magdeburg _will be able to handle the pair of Romulans, so we should be able to remain in orbit, Captain," Data said, as the Queen came to a stop just short of the first step.

"Very good, Data," Captain Picard said. "I see that the Queen and Lieutenant Picard have made it to the bridge. Your majesty, you'll be happy to know that everything seems to be under control at the moment. We caught the man who attempted to assassinate you."

"Is he talking? I know Simmons didn't," the Queen said, stepping down to stand beside the Captain's chair. She was hoping for a break though, any reason to explain the senseless tragedy whose aftermath had begun her rule.

"Not yet," Captain Picard replied, his expression somber. "It may not be necessary for him to do so. The weapon he used was the same as the weapons used to kill Princess Mary's staff."

"Coupled with the Romulan starships in the system, I'd think treason might be a good charge for Mister Dessalines," Marrissa said, from her post. The girl seemed to be quite at ease standing at what the Queen suspected was Tactical. "Along with murder, conspiracy, and probably terrorism."

"Terrorism?" Queen Victoria said, looking over at her heir. When Victoria had first seen Marrissa in her uniform at the Retreat, she had seemed so young with her hair up in its pony tail, and quite out of place, sitting on the edge of the sofa. Now with her hair down and in her comfortable natural environment, it wasn't a young girl at tactical, it was a young lady. There was a certain assurance in her posture, as if she was confident in her post. It was an entirely different view to the Queen.

"He's organized a group that used violent force as a political tool to take over the government," Marrissa responded. She shrugged. "It's a stretch, but events like what Dessalines caused require more than just murder and conspiracy charges."

"Perhaps not as much of a stretch as you'd think," Captain Picard said. "He did call for that no confidence vote, citing the impact as a reason. However, charges are for the civilian administration to handle. And I, for one, am glad of it."

"Actually, Captain, I'm afraid that it is going to at least partially falling in your lap, or at least those of your chief of security." Victoria was focused on Marrissa, and the young officer met her gaze. "We used the Defense of the Monarchy Act of 2332 in order to at least provide some legal investigation into recent events. Only because you, Marrissa, are Chief of Security, does Star Fleet, though those in your command, have civil investigation powers. As we're currently lacking any real planetary law enforcement organization, it made sense to draft any trained officers we could. However, that effectively puts you in charge, and makes it ultimately your decision on what we initially charge Ely Dessalines with, and when we arrest him."

"I understand," Marrissa replied, lines appearing on her forehead as she considered the matter. "The questions are, do we have enough to arrest him and fully prosecute him for all the crimes which we know he is responsible for? Will we get a better picture of events if we delay? If we delay, will he continue to cause harm? That last one is the one that concerns me most. He didn't need to attack the Extearen Erregela Jaun, but he, or someone did attack the Castilleia. Right now we've got enough to at least charge him with murder."

"It is your option to arrest him for one charge and add additional charges when the grand jury convenes," Data informed. Marrissa nodded, as she looked down at her console, apparently doing some calculations.

"Captain," Marrissa said looking up. Victoria noted that Marrissa's expressions were now schooled neutral, much like that of her adopted father. She moved to the young officer's side. "After the current battle is over, I need a meeting arranged with Mister Dessalines. Your Majesty, I think it would be advisable if you're available then, though I don't want you there at first. I have Dessalines maintaining an office in Naverre and another in his home district of Port-au-Prince with a residence in the town. Any where else I should consider?"

"He has a vacation home on the slopes of Mount Montini," Queen Victoria said, now able to see the various screens that Marrissa had brought up. It looked like she was already putting teams together, and had a search going for floor plans of the places mentioned. "I suspect that his son Martin is there. We haven't seen him since the Impact."

"Actually, Mister Dessalines was just interviewed with his son on the Prometheus Network a few minutes ago," Jean-Luc said. Victoria turned to face the view screen again. "I'm afraid he cast doubt on your survival and stated that for all he knows, his son may already be King Martin I."

"Your Majesty, I may I assume that you take issue with Martin being known as your heir and Mister Dessalines being the legal regent, should he succeed you?" Marrissa said, in a very formal tone. Victoria turned back, and locked her eyes with Marrissa. The officer's face was still that schooled neutrality, but in those deep amethyst eyes, Victoria could see the fire of determination burn. "Allow me to solve that, now. Your Princess of Halifax awaits your command."

...

When the last Romulan entered orbit of the gas giant that orbited Iota Leonis B, Commander Riker knew it had managed to get there purely on luck. It's partner had spread itself over a path a full AU long, when the Romulan had tried to escape into warp, just as a torpedo had exploded. It tore itself to pieces as the warp nacelles had just enough plasma in them to maintain separate fields for a few seconds.

The second Romulan had long lost it's warp capability. It trailed ionized gas as it struggled against three to one odds. Riker had to admire the Romulan commander's ability and tenacity. Most commanders, caught this deep in enemy territory with this much damage would have surrendered. A Romulan Captain of an earlier era would have blown his ship with all aboard by now.

"Captain, transporter activity detected on remaining target," tactical announced. "They're beaming down to the planet's seventh moon."

"Deacon Joseph, report," Riker ordered, turning in his chair to face the Science station. The young man was bent over his station, rapidly hitting buttons.

"Sir, there appears to be a small base on the moon, in addition to a large cavern slightly larger than that of the asteroid that impacted Essex," Deacon Joseph reported, meeting Riker's gaze. "It's fairly well concealed from visual examination, and there are signs of a prior concealing field which has been turned off. I'm attempting to scan the cavern itself, but the angle puts a lot of rock between us and the cavern."

There was a bright flash, and Riker turned towards the view screen just in time to see the remains of the last Romulan ship explode. He turned back as soon as he confirmed that the _Swiftsure_ and _Magdeburg _had both been clear of the explosion. "Can you give me a life signs report?"

"Sixty-two life signs, fifty eight are Romulan, four are human," Deacon Joseph said. "I also have detected an Repair vessel inside the cavern. It is unmanned."

"Open a channel to the Romulan base," Riker ordered. The two tone chime rang. "Romulan base, this is Commander William T. Riker aboard the _Trinity_. I have your base firmly surrounded and my weapons are locked. Give up."

...

Marrissa adjusted her communicator before she entered Ely Dessalines's study in his vacation home. She hoped she'd be able to collect a little bit of information from the former Prime Minister before she arrested him, so her team was on standby. The heals of her boots clicked on the hard wood floors, as she walked towards the heavy double doors that Ely's butler had opened. She straightened her posture, and felt her new cuffed tail hairstyle shift against the back of her neck as she strode confidently through them.

Mister Dessalines, Sir Ely, by right of his term as Prime Minister several years before, Marrissa recalled, stood up from behind his desk in greeting. "Lieutenant Marrissa Picard of the _Enterprise _to see you, sir," the butler announced, somewhat belatedly.

"Lieutenant, welcome to Chateau Dessalines," Dessalines said. He gestured at a chair in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat."

Marrissa shook her head. "I'm afraid in my line of work, I prefer to stand, Sir Ely," she smiled. Dessalines returned the smile. "Even my duty station on the Enterprise requires it."

"Very well, what brings you to my Chateau," Ely said, in a firm tone. "I somehow doubt that I rate a courtesy visit from the Fleet, since I'm no longer Prime Minister."

"Sir Ely, I'm here at the request of Her Majesty the Queen, having assumed the role of investigating the murder of your ex-wife," Marrissa replied, evenly. "On assuming the task, I discovered that you'd never been interviewed, and given your less than amiable split, I found the lack to be near criminal."

"I see," Dessalines said. "I have to admit that I was surprised that the local constable had not contacted me. I had to admit that I had been worried that the case had fallen into the cracks, if you will, of Essex's current fractured government."

"Worry not, Her Majesty seems to be mending those cracks quite quickly," Marrissa said with a smile. "At least from my perspective as an ad-hoc member of the Criminal Justice System. She's at least recognized where she can get some professionals to fill in until new ones can be hired."

"I find it hard to believe that Star Fleet would have the requisite skills to function as a fully functional Planetary Police," Dessalines said.

"I suppose you think that we're only good for chasing down Romulans?" Marrissa said, placing her hands on the back of the chair that she'd been offerred.

"If that!" Dessalines said, with an expression that Marrissa could only describe as a sneer. "I'm afraid that I have a real doubt as to the capabilities of Star Fleet. After all, you can't be more than 15 and you're a Lieutenant in it."

Marrissa smiled. He at least thought it was possible that she might be fifteen, which was a definite improvement on the usual assumptions. "I see, and what if I told you that we have chased down some Romulans right in this system."

"If that were true, than it would be the first time that Star Fleet has done something good for Essex since the _Columbia _was scrapped," Dessalines replied. "And I find it highly unlikely that Romulans would be this far into the Federation, anyway."

"That's what I thought too," Marrissa said, looking at Ely's desk. There was that looked somewhat familiar pocket watch. "It's not like them to head in this direction. If you're going to invade the Federation, you usually head as straight as possible to Earth. Romulus to Essex is a good sixty degrees off course."

"And what makes you think Romulans would want to take Essex?" Dessalines said, his tone conveying his contempt for Marrissa. She had found a picture of that watch that matched a certain artifact that the Captain had once shown her. "As you said, it's not a good invasion route."

"That's what I had been wondering since I started looking into your ex-wife's death, the attacks on the Sutters, and the recent attack on the Queen," Marrissa said. She'd compared the two but the picture she had of the pocket watch wasn't clear enough to be one hundred percent certain. Now she was. "My instincts said that they were somehow all related. The connections weren't the best, especially since we were sure that the impact was somehow related as well. Their was just one thread that wasn't weaving into the tapestry that was forming, a Romulan Green thread. It was almost as if it was what they used to call a red herring."

"So you can't find a reason behind everything," Dessalines concluded, as Marrissa picked up his paper weight. "Obviously the Queen isn't pulling in the right people for the job."

"I see you're using an Iconian Transducer casing for a the lid on your pocket watch," Marrissa said, looking at it closely. "If I'm not mistaken, and given that my father has had a small matter involving the ancient Iconians, that's not too likely, it's not from any of the usual sites." Dessalines raised his left eyebrow at the comment. "Father is something of an semi-professional archeologist. It comes in handy ever once in a while. When I was ten he spent an hour telling me about his encounter on Iconia in the Romulan Neutral Zone. The way he tells it is so interesting that I had to look up more. You see this pattern here?" Marrissa pointed at a blue and yellow marking. "They think it's sort of a station mark, telling where the equipment is supposed to be, just like my tricorder says that it's from the _Enterprise_."

"That's interesting, but I don't think you came here to discuss my pocket watch," Dessalines said. "You haven't asked me a single question about my ex-wife."

"Oh, I'll probably get to that in a moment," Marrissa said, looking at the marking. "Iconian is simular to Dewan, Iccobar and Dinasian. I spent my sixth birthday on Iccoba, and know a bit of the language. If I'm not mistaken, this reads thirty binary second star close planet thirteen moon. The Iconians referenced stars by the number of stars fitting the descriptor that are closer to Iconia. It so happens that Iota Leonis is the thirty-first closest binary star to Iconia."

"And I suppose you just read that right off the top of your head," Dessalines said. "If you're not going to ask your questions, then I suggest you put down my pocket watch and leave."

"Actually, this piece is probably going with me, as it's material evidence of exactly how that green thread fits," Marrissa said, looking Dessalines right in the eye. "An Iconian station, or even ruin would be highly sought after by the Romulans. They've been looking since the Yamato was destroyed by an Iconian computer virus. This very artifact indicates that there was one in the system, on the thirteenth moon of Iota Leonis B. It's presence is highly suspicious. You can't just walk out on the street and get something like this. Add to the fact that Romulan ships were destroyed and crewmen captured just a few minutes ago. Well, Mr. Dessalines, I have just one question."

"And what would that question be?"

"How do you sleep at night knowing that you are responsible for the deaths of over ten million people?" Marrissa watched Dessalines's reaction carefully. Chief Nelson had told her that the response to a question like this could be a key point in an investigation. It was a risky question, especially if you weren't really sure that your suspect had done the deed. Marrissa, however, was quite sure that Ely was guilty. He didn't bluster, there was no redness to his face. He was calm, cool ...

"If I was responsible for anyone's death, I'd probably not sleep a wink," Dessalines said calmly, leaning back in his chair, his hands dropping to his lap. "I can't wait to hear what gave you the impression that I'd killed ten million people, however."

"Really?" Marrissa said, with the biggest grin she could manage. "I though that the connections would be obvious by now, especially if a person whom you have maligned as not having the requisite skills for the job wove the tapestry of the crimes together so easily. You see, Mister Dessalines, if Princess Mary hadn't died, you would have never even come up. You might have even been able to escape when the plan fell apart this morning."

"Oh, so I had a plan," Dessalines said, his voice dripping in almost convincing sarcasm. "So, what plan has the almighty Star Fleet discovered me attempting?"

"I think it must have begun when your government fell a few months ago," Marrissa began, putting the pocket watch down. "I'm not sure exactly when you contacted the Romulans, but I'm pretty certain that you acquired this artifact while your were Prime Minister. The official picture of you as Prime Minister has you wearing it. Of course, you can't see enough to know it's Iconian in that picture." Marrissa shrugged. "Knowing the Romulans were interested in the Iconian artifacts, you knew they'd be interested in Essex, and if you provided them a way in, you'd be able to resume your position of power. Of course that brings up why you didn't think that another election might bring you back into power, like it did with your immediate predecessor."

"A very good question, especially since I nearly accomplished that in the last meeting of Parliament," Dessalines said. "I think your reasoning has some holes in it."

"It would, if I hadn't discussed you with Tory," Marrissa said, calmly. "It's also a contributing factor to why you made your big error. Your split with the Princess Mary, on paper it was for irreconcilably differences, but the King knew better. That's why he dissolved Parliament three months early, because he couldn't stand having a wife beater as his Prime Minister. It probably wasn't the most strictly constitutional move on his part, at least as I've grown to understand Essex's government, a task I'm probably going to be doing for quite some time. He knew better than to ask you to resign, but when that Doctor of Stellar Science decided to run against you and nearly won, it was writing on the wall. The monarchy knew, and sooner or later they'd convince Princess Mary to file charges."

"Fascinating, if true, which it isn't," Dessalines said, leaning forward a little.

"Oh it's true, but it doesn't matter, because you made the mistake of killing Princess Mary," Marrissa replied, her gaze locked on his face. It seemed to her to have a slight sheen to it now. "Though not killing her might have still caused your plan to go amuck. Ultimately, I guess it was the use of the disrupters to kill her that made the connection. If one of those hadn't been slightly damaged, we probably never would have figured out that it was a Romulan one. But it was. Of course, your companion in killing your ex-wife probably shouldn't have lent his disrupter to the man who tried to kill the Queen today ... that was a really dumb move there ... but it connects everything rather neatly. The Romulans wanted the Iconian base. You wanted the King dead, and if you killed enough of the Royal Family, your own son would be King."

"What a contrived tangle of threads you have there," Dessalines said.

"A tangle? Most certainly, but oh so true. I'd like to believe that when the Romulans suggested asteroid impact to kill most of the Royal Family, you had problems with it, but I've seen no evidence of it. I'm fairly certain that you arranged the attack on the Sutters. That, and if you'd got all the Royals who lived in Londondairy, would have left your son as the next Royal you knew in line for the throne. Unfortunately for your plans, you didn't get Tory, nor did you even apparently know of his granddaughter through his second son George. How you missed my picture in the Retreat, I don't know."

Dessalines looked down. "I never got invited to the Retreat." He suddenly stood, his chair rolling backwards with enough force to bounce off the wall six feet behind his desk when it impacted it. "And I'm not the only one who makes mistakes, Princess." A disrupter was in his left hand and pointing directly at Marrissa. "It is sad that the life of one so young will be cut so short by ill advised speculation."

Ely's thumb rose, clicking off the safety, but before his index finger could squeeze the trigger, Marrissa's left arm was in motion, her left hand hit the grip of her phaser, forcing it's tip upwards. Her thumb hit the trigger, phaser still in the holster, and it discharged, just as she had practiced. It was a nearly perfect shot from the hip, hitting right in the center of Dessaline's torso. The former Prime Minister collapsed, stunned, as Marrissa completed the motion, ending her fire as she drew her phaser out from it's short pivot mounted holster that Clara had redesigned for her.

Marrissa kept the phaser pointed at where Ely had collapsed, quickly switching to her primary hand, before she tapped her communicator. "Marrissa to _Enterprise_."

"_Enterprise_," her father's voice replied.

"I have one stunned prisoner that I need beamed directly to the brig," Marrissa said, her phaser now pointed directly at Dessalines where he was sprawled behind the desk. "Put him opposite Crewman Simmons, and read him his rights when he wakes up. Also, send down the team for the Chateau now."

Within moments, the hum and shine of the transporter took the former Prime Minister away, and announced the arrival of the investigative search party. Marrissa holstered her phaser and turned to greet Chief Nelson. She hoped he would approve of how she'd done.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

For the moment it was quiet on the _Enterprise_. Marrissa was sure that would change, but it had given her just enough time to use the holodeck for a half hour or so. In her hand was a chip which Tory had given her. The Queen had informed her that it was a message recorded by their grandfather for her. In the past week she'd learnt a lot about her father and his family, and had become proud to be numbered among Essex's royals, even if the concept of a royal family in the Federation seemed a bit dated to her.

Marrissa put the chip in the slot for Holodeck Two, and brought up the program. The doors to the holodeck opened, revealing a round room, with wood paneling cladding it's walls. There were two windows she could see. One of them had a telescope pointed outside at the night sky. The edge of a nearby mountain could just barely be seen across the bottom edge of the window. There was a rather formal coach near the center of the room.

A man with a sliver beard stood up from it. He was tall and thin, and reminded her of her father. Marrissa, for the first time in a long time, wished she had inherited her father's height instead of her mother's dainty build. "Marrissa, welcome to my retreat," the man said with a deep bass voice. "I'm your grandfather on your father's side. I'm sorry we didn't get to meet while I was still alive."

Marrissa found herself meeting his open arms. He drew her into a hug. Marrissa had missed hugs. Captain Picard wasn't the kind of person that did physical affection. Jay was, but it was different when Jay did it. The King held her, enveloped her, even though he was only a holodeck construct, somehow it felt right. He gently patted her on the back, before she broke the hug. As she stepped back, suddenly as nervous as she'd been that first time she'd met Captain Picard on the bridge, he smiled and directed her to a seat on the couch.

As they said down, he said, "I see your arrival at Essex was not to replace me, which is very good. I would not wish such a role on any of my grandchildren so suddenly, you least of them. So, I can go right on to what I consider the real important stuff, not what my Kingdom forces me to consider first. Marrissa, you are an unexpected blessing, one that I so wished I could meet."

The King looked down. "When your father left, I thought it was forever. The fault was mine, I should have remembered my own struggles with this duty of mine that I never sought nor expected, before I rashly gave my second son the EEJ slot. George didn't want it, and when he returned to Naverre to discover that his girlfriend, his fiancee, had died while he was away ... he never forgave me. His resignation and departure for Star Fleet Academy struck me deeply. The breech, however, was unbridgeable. I didn't make it any better with my letters, which soon began to bounce, as unacceptable recipient."

"His older brother, Andrew, somehow maintained contact. He even managed to go to your father's wedding. I was still upset, and so was your father. Then you were born. Your mother, no doubt over your father's objections, started to send pictures, and write about what I was to learn was George's little Princess. My wife found that nickname so amusing, and after a while, so did I, especially once I learnt that your father had forgone using all of his titles, save one, which he transformed into his middle and last name."

The King now looked up, right into Marrissa's eyes. "I remember that picture of you in that little princess dress. You have the Essex eyes, and they looked right into me though the light years. I was captivated by this little girl, who stood no higher than my son's knee, that I knew I'd never meet. I have twenty-three grandchildren at last count, and if you ask any one of them, they'll tell you that Grandfather Essex treasures your pictures more than any of theirs, especially after that waterfight involving Hilda and Christina in the lounge which destroyed a picture of you."

"Then, you had to get interested in my favorite field. If you've seen my retreat, and it is a retreat in all senses of the world, you know my interests in astronomy and stellar cartography. You have come closer than all my children and grandchildren in being a child of my heart and my interests. When you got that article in the Vulcan Science Academy Journal ... I was beside myself ... I was also quite envious. I practically called a conference with all my friends in the field going over your paper. You'll probably be happy that it held up quite well. Even my old Professor Cassel-Grenville-Smyte had to admit that you had talent."

"Of course, you had to get involved in command, to become an officer. I wish I could say I saw it coming. After all, what young girl or boy wouldn't want to command a starship. I know I did. I never told your father, but I actually applied to Star Fleet Academy, myself, before my older brother and his family were killed. I got accepted the day after I became King, though and had to turn it down. I was no shape to go at the time, anyway, as my own fiancee of the time had just broken up with me and committed suicide."

"I realize you're a young girl, a teenager, just beginning your first forays into romance. It's a wonderful feeling, a new world every bit as strange as the new ones your _Enterprise _has and will take you to, but it's also every bit as dangerous. Be careful who you let into your heart, Marrissa. For it's those you love the most that can hurt you the most by their absence. That final severing of ties will strike you down. It did for me with my brother King Richard, my first fiancee and love Gabrielle, and with your father."

Marrissa moved closer, as the tears started running down her grandfather's face. "I always had hope that he'd come back, that my big boy George would come striding into the place, in his dress uniform, that sword of his that he always prized strapped to his waist, even though it really didn't fit with his outfit ..."

The King was silent for a bit, as Marrissa found her way into his lap, his arm resting lightly against her back. Then, with Marrissa in his arms, he continued. "He never did, and now you come in his place. I hope my people treat you well. I know that being a Lieutenant your age can't be easy, and now that you're Princess of Halifax, you'll be drawn into the limelight. You're going to need help with the Press. Tell Tory to get old Haskell out of retirement. He still owes the family a few favors, and is the most avid monarchist you'll ever encounter anyway. I don't want you driven away, cursing the family."

Marrissa remained in his arms until the program ended, her grandfather stroking her hair. She wished she had met him for real. Tory was right. Grandfather Essex was someone who had been missing in her life, and now no one would ever fill that hole.

...

Captain Jean-Luc Picard offered Queen Victoria a glass of the Chateau Picard. They were in his quarters. He took his seat on what his wife called the most comfortable chair on the ship. Since the Doctor was still on duty, it was a safe move. He swirled his own glass and took a quick sniff. The fifty-two was almost as good as the forty-seven. The Queen took her first sip as she sat on the sofa under the pair of windows. Essex's Wessex continent could be seen outside the window.

"I got an interesting message this morning from a Rear Admiral Gretchen Decker," the Queen said, lowering her drink. "Apparently he thinks that I should be making a big stink over Marrissa's post, which I have no intention of doing."

"Admiral Decker has a unique point of view that has occasionally resulted in some less than appropriate messages," Jean-Luc said, neutrally. He tried to not let his opinion of his former classmate color his voice, and largely succeeded.

Victoria giggled. It was short chuckle, but just enough to let Jean-Luc know that his point had been received. "I think Marrissa put it better. She called him a damn fool set on running starship loads of officers and crewmen though the crapper. You didn't hear that from me though."

"I don't think I've ever heard Marrissa use such colorful language," Jean-Luc noted. Marrissa tended to be so polite with her word choice, Jean-Luc expected that she'd have trouble later in her career with certain command encouragements.

"I think I caught her on a very bad day," Victoria replied. "In any case, I do have some concerns over Marrissa's current posting, but one thing I've already learnt about my heir is that she doesn't like it when someone intervenes in her favor."

"Yes, Marrissa wants to avoid the appearance of favoritism as much as possible," Jean-Luc mused. "Given our positions it's not always possible, but both of us try. I wish that she was still the carefree little girl that I mentored, and every once in a while I see a glimpse of that, but she's changed so much in the last year. I'm afraid that there is no going back at this point."

"So the question is, how can she move forward into a less risky position, and how soon?" Victoria asked. It was a question that Jean-Luc had been pondering since Marrissa had ended up in charge of Security.

"I'm not sure there is a way, as long as Decker is in her position," Jean-Luc replied, seriously. "She should rotate out of it in a year, but meanwhile Marrissa is in one of the most risky posts on the ship. Fortunately, we're technically in shakedown for another nine months."

"Are there ways you can keep her in the post, yet give her other duties?" Victoria said. The Queen had a smile that made Jean-Luc think that something was up.

"I might be able to detach her to study at the Fighter School," Jean-Luc said, putting down his wine. "Given the short officer course they're planning, though, that won't take much time. I don't see any other detachments in offering here."

"I might have something," Victoria said. "You know that Essex managed to loose practically all of it's system defense force, as we relied on deploying runabouts from a base on the edge of Londondairy, as needed." Jean-Luc nodded. He thought the central node deployments weren't the best idea as a single layer defense, but he hadn't been in charge of the now decimated unit. "Duchess Clarrissa has come up with a replacement force, converting some of our under construction cargo vessels into a design called a corvette. The first of them should be in service next week, with eleven more coming in service over the next six months. We've got enough remaining members of our defense force to crew about three of them, now. They'll need about fifteen crew each, I'm told, and we still would need some of that crew at their new headquarters. We also lack an overall commander of our defense force."

"So you think that detaching her to help out her home world's defense would be an option," Jean-Luc concluded. "It might, but what makes you think that your new commander would accept her? I would offer her and a few other officers, but she is just short of fourteen. That has been a problem with even those who know her talents."

"That may be, but we've just begun a search for a new overall commander," Victoria said, as she swirled her wine lightly. "We'd like your assistance on the interviews if at all possible." Jean-Luc nodded. "So, I called Star Fleet Command and got Admiral Necheyev. She suggested that you could preform the duty, since the _Enterprise _is assigned to the system for at least the next three months. By then we should have someone to take over, and if not, Necheyev is prepared to extend the _Enterprise's _posting for a reasonable length of time until we do."

For a new Head of State, the Queen seemed to be surprisingly well connected. Necheyev was no wall flower at the Admiralty. Still, with the recent events, Star Fleet Command wasn't going to shift a call from Essex's Queen to some chair warmer. Which left the question, was it really a good idea to serve double duty as both Senior Star Fleet Officer in the system and Commander of the Essex Defense Force? "I see."

The Queen seemed to sense Jean-Luc's quandary, as she met his eyes. "It's your decision if you want to be the Acting Commanding Admiral of the Essex Defense Force, of course. Admiral Necheyev thinks you'd be a good choice. In fact, she wonders why you've never taken flag rank."

It had not been long since Jean-Luc had encountered James T. Kirk, and his words still echoed. "A wise Captain I once met convinced me that command of the Enterprise was worth holding on to as long as possible, due to the personal way you can effect events. I've been Captain for almost forty years now. The _Enterprise-E_ is my third command, and when the _Enterprise-D_ crashed, I was afraid that I'd never have her. Indeed, there where some admirals who suggested that it was time for fresh blood in the flagship's chair." Jean-Luc paused, the word flagship reminding him of another comment. "Though there is precedent for a flag officer to command the _Enterprise_. Eventually, I'll have to give up starship command, but I am loathe to do anything that hastens that. Admiral Necheyev, you said?"

"Yes," Victoria replied, taking another sip of her wine. "I was surprised to get her. To be honest, I was going over the list of chair warming Admirals that Marrissa gave me when she answered."

"If Admiral Necheyev is backing the idea, I see no harm in taking the post, but be aware that I'm likely to make quite a bit of changes as your force increases," Jean-Luc said. "Who is serving as your civilian head?"

"It's a bit up in the air at the moment," the Queen said. "Bill is reshuffling his cabinet ministers as the by-elections gradually refill the Parliament. The construction of the new Corvettes is being done by Duchess Clarrissa's company, or she'd be in the slot. I would recommend seeing her about any of the Engineering aspects of the corvettes anyway. So Bill assigned construction oversight to the Finance Minister, Alstair Haughtington-Redgrave, and everything else is under the interim Defense Minister, Maynard Kawahara. I don't know how long he'll be in the post though. Bill really wants him over in Interior, but Havea is Consistency Party leader, which makes reshuffling him a bit difficult."

"I will get with them shortly to find out exactly where we are," Jean-Luc said, offering the Queen a refill. "Star Fleet has assigned the _Enterprise_, the _Magdeburg_, and three Sabre Class ships to Essex in the meantime. We'll probably keep the _Swiftsure _for a while, too, but that seems to be our force level for now. Have they named those corvettes yet?"

"The committee on naming promised me names by yesterday," the Queen said. "They haven't yet. I intend to pressure them a bit when I return to Naverre."

"Speaking of Naverre, Beverly and I plan on taking some time off in a couple days with Marrissa. I don't want to impinge on Marrissa's flat, though, especially since she's lending it out to the Sutters. Is there any place you recommend for an overnight stay?" Jean-Luc asked.

"In Naverre ... I'm afraid not," Victoria said. "I spent most of my time away from home in either Bath or Shopeshire. Personally, if Marrissa doesn't have anywhere around town that she wants to show you, I'd recommend Bath. Either the King Charles II Resort or the Harbor Inn are good places to stay."

...

"Thanks for offering this place, Marrissa," Clara said as she dropped her bag on the sofa in Marrissa's Flat. "It's a lot better than that stuffy room that Aunt Clarrissa suggested at King Charles II Resort. It's like you're living in 18th Century Britain there."

"I wouldn't know," Marrissa said. She was at the back window, staring out at the view down to the harbor. She was dressed in a formal gown. When she had put it on, she'd done so with great care, but now she was idly picking at it's lace.

Clara moved to stand at the other side of the window. Marrissa could see her expression of concern. "Something wrong, Marrissa?" Clara asked.

"I formally accepted my role as heir to the throne a couple hours ago," Marrissa said, in a dull tone. "Ever feel like a planet landed on your shoulders? It's not a pleasant feeling, especially when you know that responsibility for the whole thing could be yours without a moment's notice." Marrissa could hear her voice raise, and develop and almost hysterical tone as she continued. "One person dies, and boom, you're Queen, and it's not something you can retire from, something you can ask someone else to sit in for you for a little while. I have to be crazy to have even considered it, let alone introduce myself to Parliament as the bloody heir, the damned Princess of Halifax!"

"Crazy no, have the family sense of duty, yes," Clara replied. Marrissa thought she saw just a bit of a smile playing with the edge of her mouth. "A heavy case of it, at that. Don't worry, Marrissa, it's highly unlikely you'll end up as Queen. Tory is nineteen and dating. In case you haven't noticed, the Royal Family here believes in lots of spares."

"Spares?" Marrissa questioned.

"Yes. It used to be you'd hear the typical Royal Couple trying to produce an heir and a spare," Clara said, leaning against the window casing. "On Essex, we tend to go just a bit overboard. There hasn't been a King or Queen of Essex who has had less than six children. Prince Andrew, your uncle and predecessor as Prince of Halifax had nine, and judging from what Aunt Clarrissa told me, probably was working on the tenth. We also have a higher than average incidence of twins. Once Tory gets married, and maybe before that, she'll start on her own brood, and you'll drop down the succession list."

"And what was Tory's chance of becoming Queen?" Marrissa replied, somewhat gruffly.

"Okay, the last two monarchs haven't exactly expected the throne, but note that a few days before they ascended the throne there were at least four people between them and the throne," Clara replied, tilting her head slightly. "If anything, Martin and I need to be worried. After all, it's you, Hilda, Dad, me, and Martin ... four and five."

"At least you know how to be a Princess," Marrissa said, before sending a puff of air to flutter her bangs. "My experience with the role is a bunch of fairy tales, and yes, that pea joke that Jay played with our mattresses."

"I couldn't sleep at all that night," Clara said, her expression suddenly schooled into seriousness. "Tossed and turned all night over that tiny pea Jay put under my mattress. How about you?"

"The same," Marrissa dead panned, pausing before continuing. "I just couldn't stand the smell of smashed peas." She suddenly broke out into giggles along with Clara, remembering Jay's joke, and the pea soup that somehow had kept coming up on the menu every time Jay had stayed for dinner for the next month or so.

It took sometime before the girls recovered from the giggles. When they did, however, Marrissa's mood was much improved. "So, Marrissa, where did you get that dress?" Clara asked.

"What, you finally realized that you can't fit into any of your old ones?" Marrissa asked. It had been quite a while since she'd seen Clara out of uniform or out of a jumpsuit at least.

"I'm sure at least the blue dress fits, I'm certain of it," Clara said her left index resting on her chin. "Anyway, we're going to be at Essex for a while, and I'm certain I'm going to need a few."

"Downstairs," Marrissa said. "The clothiers is a tenant of mine on the ground floor. I've got a bit of time, why don't I introduce you to the Senora?" Clara nodded her acceptance. "What ever you do, though, don't tell her you like the floral prints. I'm trying to drive that out of fashion."

"What! Are you kidding, I hate florals!" Clara exclaimed as they headed for the door. With a slightly saucy grin, she concluded, "I much prefer Floreses, if you'll recall." They both giggled at the old reply.

...

Captain Jean-Luc Picard awaited his daughter's return in Transporter Room Two. He had a lot to discuss with her. Recent events had changed his perception of Marrissa. He still remembered that girl in the turbolift who at first couldn't look up to meet his eyes, but still found the courage to stare him down, defying his orders. Marrissa had been shy, yet determined, and over the last few years he'd seen that determination mold itself into an ironclad sense of duty.

Until the past week, however, Jean-Luc had still seen her through that eye of yesteryear, when she had been a little girl. Oh, she'd been serving under his command since she was twelve, and he'd tried to treat her as just another officer, at least on duty, but she was still his little girl. The possessive had snuck up on him, and irritated him a bit when he had first realized it, but there was some comfort in it as well. Marrissa, with her determination, pony tail, and seemingly constantly attired Star Fleet Uniform, was a familiar unchanging part of his life.

Then he'd seen her in the dress coming into the cathedral. She had looked like the Princess she was, a vision of beauty beyond her years, as she walked up the steps. It had only been marred when she tripped over the threshold, unused to her high heals. He found himself glaring at the young Ensign who had let loose and entirely inappropriate whistle at Marrissa's formal gown.

His daughter was growing up, and though natural that was, it seemed just a little bit unfair to Jean-Luc. After all, he'd adopted her at twelve, she could give him just a bit longer of childhood. Of course, Jean-Luc acknowledged, he was probably to blame for that shortening of childhood, with Marrissa's rank and position at least being partially his fault. Still, she didn't have to learn how to dress up and wear makeup, did she?

The hum of the transporter began, and Marrissa materialized in the midst of it's sparkles. She was in uniform, as usual, however she had definitely changed. Where once her long blond hair would have been pulled back tightly in a high ponytail, now it was looser, and the tail began at her neck. In addition to the usual Star Fleet issue duffle bag hanging from her right shoulder, her left hand held a dress inside a translucent cover, her fingers hooked around the top of the hanger.

"Welcome back aboard, Marrissa," Jean-Luc said, approaching his daughter. "I assume you've wrapped up your leave?"

"You may assume so," Marrissa replied. Something in her tone was different. There was a confidence that had been eroding that seemed to be restored, Jean-Luc judged. "Tory wants me to speak at the installation of my father's statue in Queen Asahime Park, on my birthday, but that is scheduled for my usual off duty time, and shouldn't interfere with my duties."

It was hard to believe that in just two days Marrissa would be turning fourteen. It seemed like only yesterday she'd won that science contest. "I'm certain we can spare you for that. Does the Queen anticipate needing you for anything else?"

"Tory says I should get to know Essex as much as possible, and that you might be able to help," Marrissa replied, as they exited the transporter room and headed towards the turbolift. "I don't see how, though. I have my duty, and Star Fleet comes first."

"It's nice to see that you have priorities," Jean-Luc said dryly. "I realize that being heir to the throne means that you'll have some additional duties. However, I expect that you will manage those duties wisely. Counselor Troi has already mentioned that you were trying to take too much on as Chief of Security. I expect that you'll moderate your duties, to avoid allowing them to become a threat to your health." He paused for a second. "I do have some options that have opened up that may reduce your load in Security a bit, and perhaps allow you to mix a bit with Essex's people. Beverly and I are quite interested in visiting a few places on Essex, as well. At least she is. Apparently she wants to be pampered in the VIP suite of the King Charles II Resort."

"I'll see if reservations are required," Marrissa smiled, as they reached the turbolift. It was waiting for them. "Any word on Chief Nelson's mustang?"

"I talked with Admiral Gresham of Security," Jean-Luc said as they entered the turbolift. "Deck eight. He's bypassing Admiral Decker, and Chief Nelson should be Lieutenant Nelson by the end of the week."

"Good, he deserves it," Marrissa replied. "Still no chance that I can go back to the helm?" The turbolift door opened, and they stepped out to head down the short corridor to the Captain's Quarters.

"I'm afraid not, at least while Admiral Decker is in charge of Personnel in the Enterprise's Fleet Division," Jean-Luc replied. He really wished he could do something about his old classmate. Gretchen had become a thorn in his side. "It may be quite some time before you can transfer to a post more appropriate for your talents. In the meantime, I expect that I will continue to see only your best efforts."

In a tone that so reminded him of the second time Marrissa had visited him on the bridge, she replied, "Aye, sir." Jean-Luc could almost hear a salute in it. The door to their quarters opened, and they entered.

"Now, I want to know exactly why you thought you could go on shore leave without telling me, young lady," Jean-Luc said as soon as the door slid closed. The sudden expression of panic on his daughter's face was somehow a bit satisfying. "I'm well aware of Counselor Troi suggesting it, and Commander Riker approving it, but you seemed to have neglected asking either myself or Beverly for permission to spend a week off ship."

"I know I was wrong," Marrissa acknowledged. Jean-Luc found that acknowledgment to be quite mature of Marrissa. Not troubling him because she admitted it, but bothering him because it was mature of her. "I should have asked either you or the Doctor first, instead of signing up for shore leave and departing on my own."

"Yes you should have, young lady," Jean-Luc said sternly. "Next time you feel the need to leave the ship, you better let one of us know. A note is sufficient for spending the night at the Sutters two decks down, but not a week down on the planet alone. You're almost fourteen, Marrissa. Yes, you are an officer, and as an officer you're probably going to have to do a lot of things that I don't like, but that's as an officer. When you're off duty, Beverly and I expect you to act like a responsible girl your age. That means letting either of us know when you're leaving the ship, and where you are when you're on it via the existing note rule."

"I understand, sir," Marrissa replied, with a contrite expression. "Should I tender an apology to Commander Riker and Counselor Troi for causing a problem?"

"Not this time," Jean-Luc replied. "Now, I understand you have pictures?" Marrissa put down her duffle and the covered dress so she could remove the PADD with the pictures from the duffle. By the time Beverly returned from her shift in Sickbay, Jean-Luc was deeply involved in discussion with Marrissa over the sites she'd seen in Naverre during her shore leave.

**Epilogue**

Marrissa looked over the crowd gathered in Queen Asahime Park. It was quite large, much larger than she'd been led to expect for her first public engagement. Behind her was the statue of her late biological father. Tory was too busy to attend, and if she had, it would have been her job, not Marrissa's to make the speech anyway. Tory had suggested that Lady Hilda might serve as an understudy for the event. So the young girl, still awaiting the growing of her new cloned limbs to be finished, sat in her wheelchair next to the podium.

With a deep breath, Marrissa prepared herself to begin. "Good Afternoon, Ladies, Gentlemen, and non-gendered gentlebeings. We are gathered here to dedicate a statue, a statue of a man whose service to Essex was shorter than any others who took his post. A man who left Essex to serve the Federation as a Security Officer on the Federation Flagship. A man who died in the line of duty against the very enemy which only a few days ago threatened this system. A man that I am proud to have called daddy."

"I was not born on this world, and did not even set foot on it until recently, but shortly after my arrival, I started to find out exactly what on this planet made my daddy. I've discovered a few things I'd like to share. As it's been nearly a score since he last saw the rising sun over the bay, a few reminders of the man he was would be good, I'm told."

"He was born Prince George Michael Akaji, second son of King George IV. I'm told that he was a rowdy young boy, the terror of the football field. From personal experience, I know that getting between him and the goal when he had the ball falls under the heading of not a good idea. He was Football Captain at his school. While there he got good grades, and was a prefect. He turned down being Head Boy to live off-campus his final year with his girl friend, something I'm told is not uncommon, at least in the family."

"His girl friend was apparently from a notable Basque family, which led to his posting in the position which earned him this statue behind me. He loved her so much that when she died while he was visiting his father, he could not bear to remain where she had lived."

"I knew none of this until earlier this week. As far as I knew my parents were Star Fleet Officers, and that was enough. They were dedicated Security Officers, decorated several times for bravery and valor. My daddy even had two clusters on his medal of valor. He met my mother at the Academy. He always said it was love at first sight. Mom said she had to drag him out of the study lounge first. They married in their third year of the Academy, and I was born very shortly there after."

"I grew up on the Starship _Enterprise_, NCC-1701-D. My parents were security officers on board, but I'm afraid I was a slight disappointment to them. You see, I have to major interests, Command and Stellar Cartography. Until recently I didn't know why that last one bothered Daddy. Still he encouraged me when he could. He even somehow managed to get my request for the Captain to mentor me on to the Captain's desk."

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard, the man I now call father, has never ever been known as a man who likes to spend time with children. He's a lot better now, he better be after two years as my father and with one of his own on her way, but at the time all my friends told me my request was hopeless. Daddy didn't think so. Daddy got my request on the Captain's desk, and then in a series of meetings somehow convinced the Captain that he would enjoy being my mentor."

"While I was writing this speech, I was informed by my father that the jury is still out on enjoying mentoring me. I think my recent Sickbay visits may be the reason for that, but by the time my parents died in the line of duty he was certain comfortable enough to adopt me. My camping out in his ready room until he returned to it, might have had a bit to do with that."

"Daddy and Mom died in the line of duty, taking a ship that had been taken by Romulans. They died with honor. An honor whose reminder can be seen on the cheek of the statue behind me. That scar, a scar he bore to his death, was inflicted by the grief stricken brother of his first love. It's not the act of receiving it that made it an honor, though my father's last direct superior would have disagreed with me on that. No, it's what he did afterwards. Balasi Gurrieri told me about that. He took his attacker into his arms and held him as the young boy cried, then, in his last act before departing Essex, forgave him, pardoned him. He even gave the boy a flat to live in, a flat he still lives in today when he heard that he'd been kicked out of home."

"I didn't chose it, and I don't know who did, but you'll notice on the base on which my Daddy's statue now sits, below his name, is just three words. Words that he applied to young Balasi, words which his father the King hoped for, words which I feel the need to say myself to him and my adopted father. The are words that all of us should remember to say more often. On this statue it will serve as a reminder from this day forward."

Marrissa stepped back from the podium, ending her speech. She pulled the podium aside, revealing the base of the statue. The base read, "H.R.H. Lt. George Earl Flores" with his birth and death years below it. Then in slightly larger type:

"You are forgiven."


End file.
